A New Venture; A Stardew Valley FanFic

Leaving the Concrete Jungle

It was yet another manic Monday in the office. There were mountains and mountains of paper work to be completed and signed and collated. This was not the life Aisleigh had imagined when she had moved to the big, bright city to start her career. She had thought being an artist would be more freeing, liberating, and a chance to express herself in ways she had only thought about. The down side; she had not imagined was all of the paperwork. All of the self-promotion. All the non-artistic bureaucratic monotony that come with self-publicizing. It was getting to the point to where she was no longer inspired by everyday life. All the beautiful intricacies that had once fascinated her to no end, was now just bland, grey, and boring.

She sat at her desk, staring at her computer screen as it hummed quietly. The light shined brightly on her face. It was almost too bright in her dark secluded office, that she had started to bring a cheap pair of sunglasses with her. Sighing, she leaned down towards the floor to pick up her bag. The leather of the handle was crisp, almost as if it had never been used. She had used it before, however, when she had moved into the city. She bought the purse as a fresh way to celebrate a new start almost a year ago. Plopping her stiff bag onto her lap, she let out another sigh. Was this really the way she was going to become the artist she had always wanted to be? She threw her head back, her long dark brown hair cascading behind her, as she slipped on her sunglasses and continued to stare blankly at her computer.

"Anything new today, cyberspace?" She asked herself as she slowly moved her mouse over, double clicking on the internet icon. Opening the homepage, her social media popped up. It showed a bright, sunny young woman smiling. In her hands, she held a small pottery bowl. It was her most prized procession at the time, her very first triumph when she had started school almost four years ago. Her posts had been so full of life, so optimistic, it caused her a great deal of worthlessness in her now. She took her eyes off of her computer, as she glanced around her desk. Papers covered every exposed corner, pens and pencils scattered about. In the midst of the all the chaos, her eyes rested on one item in particular-that very first ceramic bowl.

Originally, she had thought placing the bowl on her desk would be a constant reminder of who she was, when she became a famous artist. Now, it was just a bleak trophy of a lost dream. She sighed, again, as she continued to look around her small office. She lifted her sunglasses slowly over her forehead. Around her, she looked at the drafting table she had bought, for those spur of the moment inspirations, and a potted plant that wilted in the window. She shoulders started to sag as she began to feel truly trapped, unhappy, and lost in the concrete jungle. Like the plant that had once been so tall, green, and so very beautiful with its simplicity, she too had begun to wilt.

Standing, Aisleigh shuffled her feet as she walked over to the plant, softly touching the leaves. They crunched and fell to the ground with the slightest hint of contact. She reached towards the blinds, peering through them to get a look at the outside world. Rain cascaded against the window, echoing in her ears. "And, it's raining. Wonderful." She played with the string, debating whether or not to open the blinds, letting in the grey of her surrounding outside world. Slowly, they rose. Once opened, Aisleigh walked back to her desk, sitting heavily in her chair.

She looked at the small clock on her computer, upset at the time. Not even ten in the morning, and she was done for the week. Needing some energy, she stood from her chair, walking towards her door. Opening it, she peered out into the office building watching co-workers working diligently on their own things. She looked at their clothing, noticing just how bland it all was. Different variations of greys, blues, greens, blacks. It was all diluted. Nothing was vibrant, nothing was alive.

Making her way to the small office kitchen, she pulled out a slight mug; another one of her creations. When she had first glazed it, it was spectacular. It was bright, vibrant, and magnificent. Since then, it had worn some of its color away, as small layers of dust covered the rim and handle. She gently wiped off the dust as she poured herself a cold cup of coffee. No sugar, no cream. She had learned that black coffee would be the best in order to survive the day to day drag of her drab existence. Shuffling back to her office, she sipped from her mug.