Since everybody said that ScTs was too short here is Mark 2, a longer more in depth version.
Shortcut to suicide.
Zell Dincht sat in his room. In one hand he held a picture of a beautiful girl with springy brown hair, in the other he held a revolver. He contemplated his situation; he couldn’t go back to them, not after what happened, there was only one way to go, only one thing left to do…
As he sat there memories flooded his mind, until he finally raised the revolver.
He saw a beautiful girl, laughing smiling, he saw himself talking, and he saw the look on his face, as she said no.
“Bitch! How could she do that to me?” He pressed it to his temple and squeezed…
SeeD’s from all over Garden flocked to his dormitory when they heard the shot, however they were too late, he was dead before the bullet left his skull.
Selphie cried. She had just heard the news about Zell. It turned out the picture he had was of her and she instantly knew what was wrong. Squall sat there patiently, not even willing to show weakness, however deep inside he was in pain. She was so upset she couldn’t speak, but when she did she stuttered with tears.
“H-he asked me… asked me to the festival b-but I said no, I think that’s what did it…” Squall laid a hand on her shoulder.
“It’s okay Selphie, it’s not your fault. He left a letter for you… I’m sorry, none of us had any idea.”
When she read the letter tears sprang from her eyes, this had been written just before he had asked her.
“Dear Selphie, if you’re reading this then…then I’m gone, Selphie I love you, I’ve always felt something missing, I tried to fill that hole with SeeD or Garden but it never worked. Then I met you, Selphie, and now that hole, it’s gone, there’s just you. If I’m gone please don’t cry, I never want to see you cry….
As she read she couldn’t help but cry, and even though
she knew Zell wouldn’t want it she cried. She had dreams about him, and always in every dream he never did anything else all he did was say three words.
“You cried Selphie….”
Well, it’s better now but it’s still lacking something… for example, Zell is the sugarhigh dude, he’d need to have been in one hella long and bad depression to have a simple “no” about the Garden festival bring him down. Does he really have to feel that “he couldn’t go back to them”, even if it’s only Selphie who hurt him? Where are the others in that equation?
Again not bad for your second attempt, at a fic. But it is still too short, with hardly any real details.
And like Weiila said, Zell is very out-of-character. Maybe if it was Nida, instead of Zell, it might be more believable, since he was the sort that might end up doing something like this.
Anyway keep at it, and I’m sure you’ll perfect your writing skill, sooner or later.
Ah but you see, to my interpretation Zell is NOT out of character.
Call me crazy but I always thought that Zell’s dufus image was only a fascade. I thought that really that was only a front to cover up the fact that in reality he was a scared insecure little boy in the body of a 17 year old. In this fic, the feelings of doubt and fear build up up until one event finally makes him snap.
pats Sephy’s head There, there. We’re not being mean, just trying to help you become a better writer. Now where’s that chapter about details from Writing down the Bones…
“When you bake a cake, you have ingredients: sugar, flour, butter, baking soda, eggs, milk. You put them in a bowl and mix them up, but this does not make a cake. This makes goop. You have to put them in the oven and add the heat or energy to transform it into cake, and the cake looks nothing like its original ingredients. /…/
In a sense this is what writing is like. You have all these ingredients, the details of you life, but just to list them is not enough. “I was bodn in Brooklyn. I have a mother and a father. I am female.” You must add the heat and energy of your heart. This is not just any father; this is your father. The character who smoked cigars and put too much ketchup on his steak. The one you loved and hated. You can’t just mix the ingredients in a bowl; they have no life. You must become one with the details in love and hate; they become an extension of your body. Nabokov says, “Caress the divine details.” He doesn’t say, “Jostle them in place or bang them around”. Carress them, touch them tenderly. Care about what is around you. Let your whole body touch the river you are writing about, so if you call it yellow or stupid or slow, all of you is feeling it. /…/
There are people who tyr to use heat only, without ingredients, to make a cake. The heat is cozy and feels good, but when you’re done, there’s not much there for anyone else to eat. That’s usually abstract writing: we get a sense there is great warmth there but we have nothing to bite into. If you use details, you become better skilled at conveying your ecstasy or sorrow. So while you fly around in the heat of the oven, bring in the batter in the pan so we know exactly what your feelings taste like, so we may be a gourmet of them: “Oh, it’s a pound cake, a brownie, a light lemon sufflé.” That is what her feelings feel like. Not “It was great, it was great!” Yes, it was great, but how great? Gove us the flavor. In other words, use details. They are the basic unit of writing. /…/”
-Natalie Goldberg
Weiila you ain’t strict, you are the perfect mixture of support, and critisms. Which can really help to push a writer to do better than they ever have before.
And Seph, listen to Weiila’s advice, it is pretty amazing.
But you where right, SCtS was cut out of a longer fic, you see I have this thing about me, if I write something spend ages on it then it gets deleted it pisses me off. So the SCtS you know IS cut out of a longer fic, you see the bit that was saved there was a couple of other pages but I honestly can’t write them for lack of caring.
Again not bad for your second attempt, at a fic. But it is still too short, with hardly any real details.
Then it’s all done and ready. I’m worried that I’m a little strict though. 