A young boy peeled his emerald green eyes from the words on the page and closed the thick, fancy, deep red bound storybook in his hand. He pressed it against his chest and sat back in his chair. He sighed, placed the book down, and moved a hand to his silver blonde hair. He played with his bangs as he wandered in his thoughts. That legend was his favorite, he never tired of reading it. "Son!", a man called from the next room, "Can you go and get me some parts I ordered in town?" "'Course Dad!", the boy happily answered, getting up from his chair in a hurry. He grabbed his book off the table and placed it in a wicker basket. "I'm heading out!", the boy called as he closed the cottage's door behind him.
The boy walked down the road, his mind enveloped in thoughts of the story. It was special to him. His father told him that his mother used to read it to him, that it was dear to her as well. He couldn't remember much about his mother, so it made him feel close to her every time he read it. He enjoyed it but was slightly sad about the unhappy ending; wanting to know what became of the castle, the dead lady, the fal'Cie, the treasures, and the cursed princess. He didn't necessarily wish a happy ending to the cruel princess though; he despised her for harming happy people and most of all killing some poor mother, making him believe that there was another kid out there that had to suffer the same way he did.
"Hey there loser!", someone sneered as the boy passed. The boy ignored them and hurried by. "What? Have your head in the clouds again, bookworm!", another person catcalled. The boy pouted a little but kept moving. He was bored of the old town that was the same everyday. He usually walked alone, just reading his books to himself. Not that he minded at all, he loved to read, it gave him a change of scenery and something exciting to discover every time. Everyone knew him as odd, but some people seemed to think that he was also very cute; girls drooling over him (he politely declined every time they advanced, what a shy boy!) and boys bullied him to no end. The people thought that the boy's innocent and unusual looks were charming, often noting what a shame it was that such a cute face went to waste on the strange quiet kid.
As he passed through town, he saw the villagers give him strange looks. "That's the kid of the crazy inventor right?", someone whispered as he walked by. The boy was at the end of his patience and finally pulled out his book again and opened it. He tried to read to tune the people out as he strode by them. It was to no avail, he continually heard whispers about him being odd and his face puckered with frustration. He exhaled as he finally stopped at the door of a metal worker's shop.
"What can I get for ya?", the brawny ironworker called for behind the counter as the bells tinkled from the door opening. "Hey Rygdea, good morning. Just the usual, parts my dad ordered." "Ah,", Rygdea said with a wink, "Gotcha." He pulled a large sack from under the counter and handed it over to the boy, who dropped gil on the counter in return. The boy scooped up the heavy sack, which tinkled from metal hitting metal, and put it in his basket. "Thanks!", the boy bowed then exited the shop.
The boy had his nose in the book once more as he walked back. He was able to dodge most of the passing obstacles until he collided with a tall someone and landed backwards onto he dirt, the contents of his basket spilling out. "Watch it!", a tough looking man with short black hair sneered. He knelt down and retrieved the storybook from the ground. The boy snatched the book away from the man's hands so aggressively that the man raised his eyebrow. The boy hastened up, dusted himself off, put his things back into the basket, then bowed as he apologized. He hurried off without looking back, his face hot with embarrassment. The man scoffed at the boy but his eyes were deep in thought. He found it interesting that a kid would be reading that sort of eloquent literature.
The boy was panting from running for a while and stopped at a bench. He sat down and pulled out the book again. He sighed as he read another story, this one with damsels in distress, gallant knights, and extraordinary lands full of adventure. The boy was enamored with fantasy and literature and felt right at home within these stories. His eyes lit up as he turned the page and saw a colorful illustration of a girl at a ball dancing with a handsome prince. She was wearing the most elegant yellow gown and the prince was in a dashing blue suit. The scene was lovely, a golden dance hall with high pillars, amazing stained glass windows, a ceiling painted with clouds and angels, and a gleaming crystal chandelier. He remembered this story well and loved this part. The disguised servant girl had just realized she loved the prince even though it was chapter 3 and she had met him in the beginning. It was probably because they hadn't seen each other since they were children and such a beautiful moment was all it took to open her eyes. How wonderful is that?
The boy grinned at the thought until his peaceful silence was interrupted by cheering. He turned and saw that there was a huge crowd gathered by the fountain. He heard screaming about there being a famous adventurer there but decided against going to have a look. He didn't like crowds. He got up to head home.
"You there!", someone called from within the crowd. The boy froze and turned. The same dark haired man from before stood before him. "May I see that book you were reading?" The boy pulled the basket with his book tucked inside away, "No, it's mine." "Please just for a minute. Name's Cid. Cid Raines." Cid held out a hand to the boy, "Nice to meet you kid." The boy frowned and began to scurry away. The man said, "Just let me read the one story about the princess who became a beast." The boy stopped and turned his head back, "Why?" "Because I'm a treasure hunter. Many a treasure hunter like me covet that jewel the beast has you see. Maybe you'd let me see it if I show you all the treasures I've recovered?" The boy turned his head forward again, "No."
The crowd had followed behind Cid and were laughing at the scene. "Crazy kid! Not listening to such a respectable treasure hunter!" Someone else added, "It's because of his father! They say he makes 'inventions!'" The crowd laughed and the boy walked even faster away, trying to hide his shame from the crowd. Cid huffed and began to entertain the crowd again.
The boy made huge, quick strides and looked up at his house as he neared it. His face was downcast but he put up a weak smile as best he could. That was when smoke billowed from the back of his cottage. "Father!", he yelled and ran to the back. The boy coughed and batted smog away with his hand, "Dad?" He heard a rattling and a loud kick.
The smoke cleared and the boy's dad was revealed to be sitting on the ground, nursing his foot. "Are you alright?", the boy asked, inching forward. His father replied with an irritated tone, "Stupid machine won't work." The boy rolled his eyes, "You always say that but then fix the problem." "Yeah, on regular machines.", the man huffed as he got up, "But my new inventions never work!" The boy patted his father's shoulder, "Yes you will! I'm sure you can. And you'll win first prize at the fair tomorrow."
"Heh, trying to live up to your namesake?", the father chuckled. The boy said, "Well, if I've learned one thing from my stories, it's to always have hope. Because when you do, you can achieve anything. Even the impossible." The father stood up and took his son's shoulders in both hands, "That's what your mother always used to say. She named you Hope for that reason."
Hope smiled at his father. "You know what? I'm sure I can fix it!", Hope's dad announced with renewed enthusiasm, "You got the new parts right?" Hope nodded and handed his basket to his dad. His father took the sack of metal out then raised an eyebrow at the book left inside, "Reading that story again are you?" Hope raised his hand to the back of his head, "Yeah..." Hope's dad let out a melancholy chuckle, "You're so much like your mother."
Hope's dad laid on the ground under a large machine, fixing the new parts into place. Hope stood by, waiting for any commands his dad gave him. He twiddled his fingers and his eyes were downcast, "Dad?" "Yes, son?" "Do you think I'm...odd?" Hope's dad came out from under the machine, "You? Odd? No, that's me!" Hope sighed and sat down, "It's just that, I'm different you know? I don't want to have just a regular life. I want my life to be exciting, like the ones in the stories." Hope's dad raised an eyebrow, "Like the treasure hunter who came into town?" Hope scoffed, "No, he's just selfish and greedy. I dunno, I guess I just want some fantasy to happen to me." Hope's dad let out a half-hearted chuckle then got up saying, "Well, I think I've done it this time. Wanna give it a try?"
Hope looked up from his hands and saw his dad point him to the lever of the machine. Hope gave his dad a wary look then slowly walked over to the lever and pulled it, bracing himself for any possible thing that could go wrong. Instead, the machine gave a steady whir and began to slowly raise a sharpened ax. Then it let out a swoop of air as the ax descended on a log and cut it in half with impressive speed. Another log was lifted into place by a conveyor type belt and before long a stack of halved logs were sitting on the floor. Hope smiled and looked at his awe struck father. "You did it!", he hugged his dad, "I knew you could!" Hope's dad was laughing and shouted, "Guess I'm off to the fair!"
