Eyes on Final Fantasy Forums > General > Writer's Corner > Let's all Write a Story!

[Martyr]

I mean, if t's your thing.

Anybody want to go, a different chapter per person?

It'll be fun, confusing, and nonsensical. We could make it like Naked Came the Manatee, and kill each other's main characters off every chapter. Or we could work together. Whatever.

Is it a plan?

Or are we all poets here?

Or do we add difficulty to the task by creating the story with a series of poems instead opf prose?

Uh... Ideas?

[GeneralSapphire]

I love writing stories i will help if you start off!!!!

[Christmas]

Sure.

[GeneralSapphire]

who shall start?

[BizarroSephiroth]

oooooooooooooooooooo lemme help!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[Odaisé Gaelach]

I'll help.

[Martyr]

Oh, wow. It took a while to get a response, and now there's a crew. Cool.
Okay, so I guess I need to think of a way to start a story. We're all Final Fantasy fans here, so I imagine that, at the very least, this is going to be magical realism, if not outright Fantasy/Sci Fi.

I'll start it very mildly because I don't like starting stories. Also, this is my first and only draft.

---------------------------

On a cold and lonesome night, a single black van rolls up to the middle of an empty field. The figures get out, pause for a few awkward moments to grumble about the weather and put on heave coats. The large half moon up in the sky shines on these silhouettes of men, and provides enough light that they don't need their flashlights just yet.

One man leads the crew and kneels down to examine a lump on the ground. The lump, wearing tattered rags, is dead.

Jim Daily inspects the corpse on the ground. His buddies creep up around next to him. One says, "Well?"
Jim shakes his head and stands up. "This is not who we're looking for."

Angrily, the men all turn to pile back into the van. Jim walks back last, after examining the body for one last time.As he takes a step into the van, he says, "I'm sorry about this fells."

One of the guys inside the van cracks his knuckes. "I'm sorry too."

That remark was the signal, and Jim found himself being thrown from the van. Somebody turned it on, peeled out in the field, and ran over Jim, lying on the ground, as it sped off into the distance.

Jim, wincing, unable to sit up, looked over to the body a few feet away. "Trust me, you dead punk. I got it a Hell of a lot worse than you right now."

-------------------------

That's the start. Take it wherever you want it. You've got the pen.

[YTDN]

I'll help, but I think I'll join in later when everything starts going nuts.