The Spark of Yore

This fan-fiction can be read and understood easily by readers unfamiliar with the story. My plan is to make use of the plot concepts, but to replace every main character with a similar character of the opposite sex. Chrono Trigger is a video game that has been released on multiple consoles over the years. Written in 1st person.

a Chrono Trigger Fan-Fiction


Chapter I: Rise & Shine
Narrator: Crona

1000 A.D.

I lay in my bed, half-asleep. I could hear the seagulls flying across the coast, squawking with such enthusiasm that they seemed to know what day it was. Then, there were abrupt pops in the distance, like tiny bursts of gas. With weary eyes, I looked through the translucent drapes of my bedroom window and caught site of numerous colorful balloons, rising up into the sky. That was when Leene's Bell began to toll, signalling the beginning of the festivities. And as it continued to ring, just a mile away, I managed to drift back to sleep. Clearly, anticipation had taken its toll upon my rest.

"Crona..." I heard a familiar voice say my name. "Crona!"

I rolled over.

"Crona, are you still sleeping?" It was Mother. "Come on, sleepyhead! It's time to get up!" She walked over to the window and pulled open the drapes.

Sunlight dove into my room, and I hid my face in my pillow.

"Dear me!" she exclaimed, looking out my bedroom window, "I'd forgotten how beautiful Leene's Bell sounds!"

I groaned.

"You must have been so excited about the Millennial Fair that you couldn't sleep last night, could you?" she surmised. Her voice now came from my bedside, and she ran her fingers through my long red hair. "Well, you'd better not let that giddiness get you into any trouble, young lady. I want you to behave yourself today!"

I felt patronized, but I knew she meant well.

"Come on, now!" she paced across the room, raising her voice, "Out of bed with you!"

As she walked back downstairs, I slid out of bed and onto my feet, yawning. In the sunlight, I felt energized, stretching.

At my feet, our one yellow cat rose to her feet as well, and yawned at me innocently. It was a habit; he got up when I got up. I think he felt protective of me, despite his size. After all, that little cat is the man of the house.

I followed him downstairs, where he promptly began to nuzzle the brown side of his face against my right shin affectionately. Conscious of my mother nearby, I patted him once, and he meowed in gratitude.

"It's about time!" she scolded. "By the way, you're going to see -- Oh, dear, what was her name? That young inventor friend of yours..."

"Lucco," I reminded her, picturing him, just yesterday, grease-covered beneath his goggles and working away on something for the fair.

"That's right! Lucco!" she repeated it to herself so as to commit it to memory. "You're going to stop by and see her new invention at the fair, aren't you?"

"Of course!" I said with a grin. And I could tell from the way Mother looked at me that she hoped there was something more than just friendship between Lucco and I. There wasn't, though. I just couldn't think of him that way.

"Well, run along, then. And be back before dinner!" Then, she walked away from me, around the corner and past the chesterfield. I followed her, and watched across the kitchen table where her dirty breakfast dishes still sat. She kept herself busy with something else I couldn't see.

When I continued my approach, she turned to look at me, blushing. "Oh, I almost forgot!" she exclaimed. "Here's your allowance, dear. Have fun at the fair!" Then, she handed me a more than modest bag of coins worth roughly two-hundred gold.

"Thank you!" I said, surprised, and gave her a hug. "I won't spend it all in once place." Instantly, I recalled the rumours of a blacksmith from a distant land who had come to sell his famous swords. I felt it was about time to replace the wooden blade I'd been using for the past year, even though it was considerably better than the old mop I had used as a kid.

I walked out, into the fresh air of the town of Truce, as seagulls flew above still exuding their own eagerness. There must be nothing better for a scavenger bird than fallen scoops of ice cream, or a dirty lolipop that some kid would undoubtedly drop.

The End

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