I think I was in grade nine when I first saw this angel picture. I was so very young, full of wistful thoughts, random imagination, and an ambition to write a story.
Where I got the idea to write a whole military world I will never know. Military is something I know very little of. This was even before I had even start the game of Final Fantasy VII, so I cannot blame it on that. Even though now, that game and its resulting fanfictions are one of the greatest inspirations I have for this story. Another inspiration for Post-Trauma, seeing where the story is going, would be Ghost in the Shell. Brains to go along with the brawn and an over all mystery to tie everything together.
When I first thought up the story about a mechanical angel, the angel was to have no control over what was happening to him. A young pilot, whose name I forget, had crashed and died. His soul captured in a “soul bead” by a devoted friend, his body was confiscated by the government science lab and changed.
I think he had razor-wings, shuriken-loaded forearms, titanium plated skull and a mass of wires, cables, tubes, flesh, and scarred skin making up the bulk of his back and shoulders. The poor kid was not a pretty sight. When his soul was plugged back in, he was confused, alarmed, and rehab had been a straining ordeal for him.
In the end, I tied it to God, and in the end the angel had committed suicide during a flight exercise. Two people, who had become close friends to the angel, had a scene at the end of the story. One of them grieving in his personal rooms, while the other explained what had happened through the intercom at the from door – the known story and the personal accounts.
It was a tough read. Not to mention I had bricks of solid text in exposition. In the old story, man-kind had made contact with other planets. There were different species of humanoids working in the lab. I had religion, telepathy, aliens, and along with the mire that was human emotion and depression. It was a mess.
I used to type for hours on the computer. Then print it out and scribble notes in the margins or between lines. This was before I had an editor’s or even a student’s brain. I printed the manuscript out in nine point font and in courier new – single space. What can I say, I was raised in a frugal family. I was also insane I think. Foolish, bright-eyed, quietly ambitious, without any real training what-so-ever.
X-men. It was definitely x-men that did it for my imagination at that time. Angel was spun much too closely to Wolverine and Xavier to ignore.