The Shambala Chronicle
I don't own Shambala, and the rights of it go to…whoever the friggin' alchemist was that conjured it up.
Enjoy.
Entry 5:
Today was probably the most random day I've ever experienced in my entire life, yet it was probably also the one day I really needed since I got back from Central.
So I was on my way home from my usual walk today. And on the way, I pass the bookstore, which is about a block away from where I live. And all of a sudden, I remember that Jeffie had wanted that new manga that had come out, the one I can never remember the name to. So I figure, alright, what the hell, I'm right here… might as well grab it. And so, I went in.
Now, the Risembool bookstore isn't like the one they have in Central, but in a pinch, it has just about everything you'd ever want. I've never been one to spend time in here, but even I am impressed with how wide a selection they have for such a small place. Just goes to show, size isn't all that matters.
Anyway, I found Jeffie's manga and was on my way to the counter when I started hearing this guy talking loudly to a group of customers about this one book that was, as he called it, "Risembool-bred true and blue". Meaning the author was a Risembool boy or something like that. As I waited in line to make my purchase, I couldn't help but overhear the rest. The guy spoke as if he had a bunch of mics on him anyway. He went on and on, saying how this book had been a bestseller since it had been published, cherishing how "real" it was, and saying it had been top of the charts for the last six months.
Well, finally, curiosity won over me, and I took a sneak peek over to the table where this "No. 1 All-Time Book" was. Of course, I stopped dead when, lo and behold, the title shot out right at me:
Full Metal Journal:
By
Sgt. Scott Rodyle
Of all the tens of millions of freaking books out there in the world, how is it that my book has stayed on the freaking top for six months? For Gods sakes, people, that "bestseller" was made out of a crappy journal based on my personal thoughts and opinions, mainly bitching about blistered feet and no women! Either every single freaking person in the world is on crack, or they just don't know any better.
At any rate, I just stood there, staring at this pile of books disbelievingly as if they were going to jump up and smack me in the nose. Un-freaking-believable. When the Brig. Gen. had told me to publish my journal right before I left, I don't think this was something he had in mind. It sure as hell wasn't something I did. The damn thing has gone from a private journal to a world-wide bestseller in just six months. Un-freaking-believable.
"Ah! There he is!"
Aw, crap. Busted. Before I could even move two feet away, the guy who was rambling on about the book being God in literary form saw me, grabbed my sleeve and yanked me in front of everyone so they could see for themselves "the man who wrote the Bible."
I swear to God, I promised myself right then and there that I would never believe in religion again after that.
The group then began immediately bombarding me with a zillion freaking questions: What did it feel like? How were the nights? Did I ever to real combat stuff, like patrols or ambushes, while I was out in Lior? Were there more stories about my buddies that never made it in there?
I dunno what the hell they were looking for, but I suddenly felt uneasy by it all. Especially the last question. God knows I've never forgotten any of my squad buddies, but they're my memories; not the worlds'. But more questions just kept raining down, like I was one of those guys on the witness stands in a courtroom. And the more they asked, the more uncomfortable I felt. Normally, I was good with crowds, but for this particular event, I wanted out.
And then, right when I felt ready to just collapse on the floor and go into a fetal position, someone shouted, "Leave him alone!"
And then this girl just popped right out of nowhere, going right in front of the crowd like that, hands on her hips like how my mother used to scold me and Jeffie back when we were little. I had absolutely no idea who this girl was, but I couldn't have been more grateful for her.
So she started yelling and hollering at them to leave me alone, that she was disgusted with all of them and all that stuff. While she's doing that, I take it as my cue to snag one of the copies (you'd think, as the author, they'd send you a copy-just to see what they'd changed- but nada), and tip-toe casually over to the counter. I paid for my purchases, stayed just a little while longer to watch her bitch the rest of the guys out (I love watching women chew people out for the crappiest things. Sucks when it's happening to me, but other people, you'd almost think you were at the theatre.), and then I sneaked out right as she finished.
Outside, I exhaled sharply. People can be such gigantic jerks. No lie. Bunch of jackasses. I started limp-walking away, hoping now to just go home, crawl under the covers, and stay there until I die, when someone behind me went "Wait."
I turned, and it was that girl who just a few seconds ago was pulling the biggest Frank Archer- shout match I had ever witnessed. She walked over to me, all nervous and stuff, probably ashamed also of the scene that had just occurred.
"Sorry about that," she said to me, "They shouldn't have done that to you. It wasn't fair."
I told her it was OK, and that she shouldn't worry about it. It was right then that I noticed she was pretty cute. She had blonde hair that was wrapped up in a ponytail, and almond-colored eyes, which I've always been particularly drawn to. Something told me she was smart, too- not one of those blondes that were about wild parties and that stuff, though I have nothing against them. And nice…despite the fact that she had just chewed off a bunch of heads at once.
We actually ended up talking for a while. Right there in front of the bookstore. Not much, and not long, just a little bit of small talk. It was kinda cool. Made me wonder why I had never known this girl before. She seemed interesting.
She then told me she had to go, but grabbed the copy of my book that I had bought and wrote something inside it. She handed it to me and smiled. I checked to see what it was and could hardly what I saw.
It was her phone number.
Usually don't get one of those 'til the third date or so.
She started walking off then, but there was no way in Hell I was just going to let her walk off without a little personal information, so I called out:
"What's your name?"
"Claire," was all I heard out of her, before she was gone.
I stood there for what had to be another twenty minutes or so, not moving, just staring off towards where she had walked off to. Claire…after all these years, I thought I had met just about everyone in Risembool, yet here was a girl I had never known existed. A pretty cool girl, I might add. Claire…
When I got home, I gave Jeffie his manga (half in a daze, still trying to figure out if it had all been a dream or not) then went up to my room and checked through the book. I scanned through each sentence and sighed in relief when I recognized every single word as my own. But one new thing was at the beginning, right before the first entry:
"Dedicated to the soldiers I served with, especially the following: Roy Mustang, Riza Hawkeye, Jean Havoc, Ed Elric, Angelo Fish, and Smokey."
Yeah…I think I like that part best.
So, instead of same night, it was… what, a week?
Well, whatever. Yes, Scotty gets a new friend. Three, two, one….Aaaaw.
Chapter Summery: Scotty and Claire continue to get to know each other over a cup of coffee and a bagel.
That's the chapter. A lil' bit of fluff for y'all, cause last story had none of that.
Review please.
