Diary

Chapter 2: Sketch


It had been another long and boring day at school, and he was one hundred percent sure that geometry was the devil's work. Returning home was always the best part of the day. Today was even better though, as he could go up to his room and read in solitude.

He had pulled it out a little in class, and flipped through it a little. The pages were torn and beaten up in odd places, suggesting that the book itself was a not only a journal, but a diary as well. The thing that perplexed him the most was the sheer fact that it read too much like just another fantasy novel of a strange alternate universe with magic and little fairy people and the such.

He had also noticed that there were various illustrations dotting the pages. Most of them were odd little circle patterns, but some had tried to be sketches of people. Whoever wrote this book, well, besides the circle patterns, which were infinitely complex but yet beautiful, whoever wrote this had no real artistic talent. Circles and lines could be drawn easily enough with a compass and a ruler.

Some of the pages stuck together, and he pulled them apart whenever he came across them, sometimes damaging the page. He cursed under his breath. What had made the pages stick together? It was anyone's guess, until he saw what was written down.

He skimmed quickly over the actual words when he noticed dark, circular stains that had placed themselves irregularly on the page.

January 28, year 12

I don't know what to write, what to say. There is no word that I can think of. More like a mixture of several different feelings.

First off, I passed the State Alchemist Examination with flying colors… or at least they say. This at least puts a little hope into my heart that one day… one day…

All of this emotion welling up in such a short time…

I feel like I might explode.

Nina…. Nina….

I can't bring myself to write down what happened, but I know that that is something that I will remember for the rest of my life…

This is where the splotches seemed to be the most heavily concentrated. The notion him: Tears. Tears of what, for whom? He might never know. The author sure had left a lot of holes in the plot. He continued to read:

Goddammit, they wouldn't even give me a moment's peace! "How long are you going to keep sulking there, FullMetal?" "You have a lot of paperwork to catch up on, FullMetal." "Don't sit outside in the rain, you might catch a cold, FullMetal" Sometimes that bastard of a Colonel is just so condescending I feel like punching him in the gut a few times.

"An adult's reasoning" he had said…

I had never paused to think about it, but right now I really would like to scream at him and say "WHAT IF THERE IS NO REASON?" and see if he can manage to keep that smug look on his face.

An adult. Pah. Both he and I and everyone that meets us know that we are such children, so immature, blissfully ignorant.

He turned the page to see something that he hadn't seen before.

March 4, year 15

So… we are stuck with Armstrong for the train ride back to Rizenbul…

Damn, those sparkles are getting to my head right now.

I hope the train is fast. He really is annoying and embarrassing at some times…

Why are we going back home? I forgot to say why. Oops. Well, we had a run-in with Scar… and, well, my entire right arm is destroyed.

I hope Winry doesn't kill me for this…

Oh! Yeah! I almost forgot. I had Armstrong sketch some pictures in here while we were waiting at the train station to stop him rambling on about his family history and special talents and other random crap. They're actually really good. Who would have guessed a guy like him could draw? Not me.

He had gone rambling on again about how it was 'the artistry that had been passed down to generation after generation of Armstrongs'. I really should keep my mouth shut around him, but it's really hard.

I get the feeling that this is going to be a long ride…

He looked at the page opposite the entry. It was a sketch of a group of people, most of which were wearing some kind of uniform that looked vaguely military. Next to it was a photograph which the picture had been drawn from.

There were a few that stood out, though. First off, there was a giant suit of armor in the background. He wondered why there would be such a thing in a drawing like this. Standing next to the armor was a drastically shorter person in comparison. They had long hair, which looked to be braided although it was had to tell. They also wore a particularly odd-looking cloak-trenchcoat thingy.

There was one woman in the group out of all of them, and she was seen with a gun in her hand and a stern, but not malicious stare. A shorter man in glasses held a black dog, standing next to a taller man with a lazy grin on his face and a cigarette in his mouth. Sitting down in a chair in the corner was a black-haired person wearing a smugly satisfied expression, his head propped up with one white, gloved hand. And then there was a person, standing all by himself in his own little spotlight, twinkling, flexing his muscles with his shirt off.

He assumed that this was a pose for the photograph.

He spent several minutes surveying the picture when he came across captions he didn't even notice before. Below the armor and the trenchcoat-wearing person was an arrow, which split into two directions. On the left, which he assumed correlated to the left person in the picture, was the written 'Alphonse Elric, age 14'. On the arrow pointing the opposite way, there was written 'Edward Elric 'FullMetal' Alchemist, age 15'.

This was not what he had imagined the writer of the journal to look like. In fact, he hadn't even fully expected it to be a guy. And how was he a suit of armor brothers…? He assumed that from the surname. That was just plain weird.

Above the woman's head was written 'First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye'. Below the man with the dog was 'Sergeant Major Cain Fury with Black Hayate'. To the side of the person besides this 'Cain' was 'Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc'. The man in the chair was labeled 'Colonel Roy Mustang'.

Colonel…

He looked at the man again, and studied the expression on his face. He understood what …Edward?… must have felt, or feel. He couldn't be sure of the tense. Maybe this was a continuing series of a new fantasy/sci-fi novel?

God, that look just made him want to clock this… Roy… on the head. He knew some people like that. He also knew that there were many layers, for a lack of a better word, to that kind of people. He knew one personally.

His train of thought was cut of violently and abruptly by the entrance of his mother into the room. He quickly closed the journal and shoved it into a drawer in his desk guiltily, like he had something to hide.

"I've been calling your name for fifteen minutes now! I could have sworn the neighbors down the street could have heard me yelling "Ed! Dinner's ready!" from inside!"

He grudgingly left the picture and the journal behind and slogged down the stairs to eat. It's not like he was hungry anyway… he had more important things to do, like geometry, and that book had just started to get even more and more baffling to him, which made him want to get back and read it some more.


Hmm... did the plot thicken? Turn to goo? Get a little murkier? Thin out and get completely see-through? Well, to me it's really see-through, but then again, I'm the author(ess)!

KitsuneOfShadows- Canadian Pride? or Blame Canada? You're right. I don't really care! XPPP I'm American. How boring. At least Canadians can be like 'oooh im from canada'.Wait... Why are we talking about Canada again?

Flamebrake - Oh, but I can. I can do anything I want! I am the all-powerful authoress:laughs insanely: I hold the power of life and death in my hands! (as seen in too many of my other fics...)

later.

'Taters

hey, that rhymed!