Stardew Valley: 1st Prologue Draft: Shane POV Fan Fic. Getting back into writing. Contains mature language and alcohol.

Prologue:

Who Cares Anyway?

  The night air was sharp, stabbing into Shane's joints as he followed the usual path to the Saloon. Shane was a five-foot-seven, 31-year-old with a perpetual five o’clock shadow. His green eyes, framed by dark circles, didn’t help his ‘fuck off’ energy he put off. He was a husky, very dishevelled man. Not much for people, nor did he care about his look. So his outfits usually were made up of some gym shorts, a raggedy t-shirt and his worn, torn signature hoodie. Though tonight he had some thicker clothes. The snow was not going to let up until the morning. He had worn studs in his earlobes once, and still could, but lost the pair he had and didn’t give enough of a damn to get anymore. He stood at the entrance, the sound of laughter and music muffled by the door. Staring at the sign, illuminated by a small bulb above it. He took a few deep breaths as he fiddled with his smokes before regretfully lighting one. He couldn’t go in shaking like he was. The cold, the noise, and the people had his chest tighter than work did. Leaning under the sign, to the far left, hiding in his coat, he watched folks pile in. “Hey. You got a light?” Looking at the ground, he saw a pair of black boots glide into view. He didn’t look at who it was, just lent the lighter, got it back, finished his smoke, and crushed it under his foot before a conversation began, or worse, silence. Shane stepped in, and he felt the warmth embrace him as he walked by a table, taking his usual position against the wall by the fireplace. The music was cheery and the people lively. Shane didn’t care about that, just wanted the amber liquid that made everything quiet and distant. It was almost programmed into him to need it. Before he could even say what he wanted, Emily placed a tall mug infront of him and with a smile said, “The usual. And happy new year, Shane.” Of course, the ‘usual’. He came in so often now she doesn’t even need to ask. Assumptions… that’s all this town had for him. It’s not hard for him to tell that people looked at him as if he were a ticking bomb. His eyes felt harder to keep open tonight. He pulled the mug off the bar and held it close like a lifeline. Staring into the foamy beverage, he downed half of it and burped under his breath. He aimlessly looked around at all the people chatting until he met his Aunt Marnie’s eyes. Quickly, he redirected his gaze, but it was too late; she and the Mayor were walking his way. Marnie was a plump woman with thick, wild ginger-brown hair. Usually had a sweet smile on. The Mayor, aka Lewis, was a thin man with a white waxing mustache that matched his white hair. He was always at the ranch. Around Marnie. Shane didn’t exactly like him. Shane’s hand tightened around his glass, his chest tightened, and the sound of clinking glass started to fade. His breath shallow. He downed the other half of his drink and signalled for another. Emily delivered another mug, her smile softer than before, and she had a look in her eyes, the look that a parent gives their kid when they’re sick. “Shane? Did you hear me?” His gaze found its way to Marnie. Not quite eye contact, but more acknowledgement of her presence. Shaking his head, he took a big gulp, then held the drink close to him. “I was asking if you were still helping with the animals in the morning.” Staring into the glass, he could feel her eyes burning a hole in the top of his head. He nodded, slurring out, “Sure, whatever.” He could hear her thank him, and they both walked away. Pfft, like there was anything to thank him for. Taking another big gulp, leaving his drink now half full, his mind wandered for a bit. “Aye, there, Gus. Get me a couple of drinks, will’ya?” The smell of the ocean reached Shane's nose before Willy got close. The smell of fish always made him sick. “Ending the year with a few drinks?” Another voice approached, but from behind the bar. He peeked to his right and saw Gus. Willy asks for a couple of beers for himself, and no one bats an eye. Shane does it, and endless looks of pity or disgust met him. Ending? Shane swirled his beer slowly. He caught some of the conversation they were having. “Yeah, new beginnings.” Beginnings? Beginnings mean new things, and new things mean change. Spring, the ultimate sign of new, also brought rain, mud, and events that he couldn’t stand to think of. So he didn’t instead downed the rest of his drink, quietly he snaked his way through the crowd and stepped into the piercing cold. Still better than in there.

  The town lampposts softly lit the path his body had saved, like it had GPS. Frozen but moist air filled his lungs, and they screamed as he groaned, stumbling past the river. He coughed a bit, clearing gunk from his throat. He leaned on the fence of his aunt’s animal pen. One of the cows was staring at him from inside the barn through the cracked door. “You’re getting good fresh hay in the morning, guys…” His words floated into the emptiness with no response. Waving his hand as if to say ‘Whatever’, he pulled his key out, unlocked the door, and walked in. Jas was sitting against the counter of Marnie’s shop. Even in his hazy mindset, he could tell she had fallen asleep waiting for Marnie. Sighing, he stumbled over, knelt, and picked her up. His body refused, but his mind forced it. He carried her through the left hall and into her room. He lay her down in bed, tucked her in, and before he left, he felt her tug on his sleeve. “S-Shane.” Her voice sounded scared. “What’s up, kid?” He looked over at her, squinting, his sleeve still held in her little hands. “I can’t sleep without the song.” She sniffled, and her grip tightened. The song Marnie sang to her almost every night. His body just wanted to shut down, but Jas’s grip was not loosening. “Alright..” He groaned, grabbed the closest stool, and sat beside the bed. He didn’t know the song, and he definitely couldn’t sing, but he knew she wouldn’t sleep without a song. He just wanted to drift off into his bed. He didn’t sing; he hummed a soft, melancholy tune, adding some words. “Hmmm Goodnight, chickens here and there… hic” he slurred as he continued, “Sleep tight… Night in the hay… where we can lay our eggs…” Catching his breath, “Hic… ‘night little chicks…’ night Jas. Won’t let those Joja-mites bite…hic…” He hummed for a bit, lost in thought, before he proceeded with, “Uncle Shane’s gonna buy you all the purple paint in the world.” He burped and saw her soft smile as she started falling asleep. “Just… ‘cause I’m a mess… hic… Doesn’t mean I don’t… Love you, kiddo.” He swayed in the stool for a bit, watching and making sure she was asleep before he stumbled out, tripping over a few toys. He followed his body as though it were ahead of him.  Shutting the door behind him. Making it into his bedroom, he kicked his shoes off into the corner and shed his clothes like a shell. Flopping on his bed, he placed his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. “Another year gone… Another year without them… without him.” His heart started beating harder. He never went to bed without thinking of Jas’s father. His bestfriend. It had been five years. Five years felt so long… too long. Taking care of Jas was his last promise to him, but he could barely take care of himself, let alone Jas. Marnie was more of a guardian than he was. It was better that way. She had someone good for her. He was never good for anyone. He never would be. Just another year gone, and a new one to drudge through, made his mind race. He slapped his alarm on and closed his eyes, hoping they wouldn’t open in the morning, not like anyone would notice his absence. Just one less problem around. He drifted off into a heavy, uncomfortable sleep.

Writer's note: If you read through this, please feel free to give writing tips. Please understand three very important things.

1. I'm doing this for fun and writing practice.

2. I am trying to get as much lore from the game into it, and flesh out characters where they have more depth than the initial impression we already have.

3. I also wanted to write this, as I myself have been sober now for almost 6 years. In a good mental health path, I have my own farmer who helped. The inscription for the farmer I'm making for Shane. My fiance. Patient, not pushy. Just giving room to feel safe enough not to retreat into a pit.

Also, I want to publish my own series one day.

I have plans to make one of each marriage candidate. From a close third-person POV. And in them, there will be connections and friendships building around the NPC and the farmer. I'll take any suggestions on what type of farmer would be best for each character.