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Post by CuteCat on Feb 20, 2013 16:47:29 GMT -5
Do assignment 2 and 3 before attempting this one!
Write a scene about memories and regret.
Purpose: Getting into the head of a character
Requirements: The character should NOT be one similar to yourself in personality. That's too easy. Remember to write the character's thoughts regarding it all. The regretful character does not need to be alone, but the viewpoint should be fixed on them and their thoughts. Don't jump to other characters' viewpoints to describe how lonely the regretful one looks or how they're reacting to the character's regret.
Hard mode: Make it clear what the character's regret is about without just explaining or describing it in a flashback of some kind.
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Post by CuteCat on Mar 4, 2013 22:58:23 GMT -5
(Muir Warning: Story contains large amounts of depression!)
Kikari took the long path back to the inn. Why, he wasn't quite sure. It just felt better than taking the elevator in that empty pet shop; he didn't know if it worked anymore to begin with.
The forest lay empty of all things. No animals, no monsters. A long time ago he would've appreciated it, but now it was nothing aside from a reminder of everything missing.
He didn't even glance up as he stepped into the clearing. He didn't want to see the abandoned inn or the broken state it was in; he didn't want to see anything at all. He just watched the ground in front of his feet, relying on the memories long since burned into his mind to get to his destination. Only when he had stepped inside did he raise his head, briefly glancing around. The living room lay empty as he had expected, dust coating everything and the walls bearing many signs of water damage. For a brief moment his mind suggested calling out, but he stifled the notion at once.
He glanced about once or twice as he moved up the stairs, but already knew what he'd see. The rest of the building was just as run-down, and he didn't feel much about it until he reached his room. He paused, nudging the door open and moving inside to look around.
Whatever he had left behind was still there. Why hadn't they removed the things? Nobody had lived there for a long time, not for forty years... Had they hoped for him to return?
He felt a tightness in his throat and backed out, shaking his head. No... That couldn't be it. He glanced around the decrepit hallway. Maybe someone was still there and could answer, he thought against his better judgement. Even if nobody was, he'd better make sure; he couldn't stay if someone was.
As he wandered the hallways, gently pushing open each door, it dawned on him more and more that he was alone. He could tell when everyone had stopped caring about trying to keep empty rooms. Many of the rooms held items whose owners he still recognized, but nowhere was there a sign of anyone living.
As he moved on he stopped even looking into the rooms, and without realizing it his pace grew faster in an effort to finish. He ended up checking a few rooms twice before slowing to a stop, staring ahead of himself blankly.
Everyone was gone.
Every single person he'd ever known was gone.
His gaze travelled to his hand, leaned on the wall. Why ...? It was an absurd notion. Why? Why were they gone?
Even though he'd wanted it, hoped for this, suddenly he didn't know what to do. His hand slid from the wall as he leaned against it, slumping down like a discarded doll.
"I hate you!" "Would you just leave me alone?" "I don't have time for you... If you just want me to go back there, then get lost!" The words swam in his head, yelling and chastising, angry or downright hateful. His own words. He raised his head, staring at the door in front of him blankly: It lead to the roof, through the arcade.
Without a word, he pushed himself to his feet and went through it. Nothing in the arcade worked, not that he expected it to, but it was another painful sting as he knew how important it had been to some of the residents. Residents that everyone had thought were immortal. He tried to shake it off as he moved up onto the rooftop, having to struggle with the trapdoor to the point that he broke it off.
As he stepped up onto the roof he looked around without seeing anything, eyes refusing to focus. The air was frigid, the roof lined with cracks and mold, damp from the recent rain. All Kikari cared was that he was back outside, and he walked to the roof's edge to look down.
Below, he could see graves. Not just Devic's or Horsey's grave, but many of them, far more than he could remember. The knot in his throat grew tighter as he forced himself to fly down and land in the graveyard.
He opened his mouth to speak, something innocent like "long time no see", but he couldn't make a sound. He crouched down to the grave in front of himself, brushing away the dirt and moss that had obscured its name. What met him was confirmation; nobody was left.
He stood back up, moving on to the next grave to do the same with shaking hands. Just like he had done for the doors. The sorrow and guilt he carried with him grew stronger for each one, and more and more memories surfaced. Yelling, fighting.
As he wiped clean the last gravestone he stopped there, slumping down to a sit. He could all too well remember; someone he'd barely known, but hated for an act of self defense...
How badly had he hurt him? How badly had he hurt everyone? Though he mouthed an apology, Kikari still couldn't force himself to make a sound.
No more.
His head lowered until he was staring at his hands, remembering the abuse he'd dealt everyone around him. Tears slipped down his face but he didn't even notice. He had abandoned all of his friends, to the point that he never even knew when they disappeared.
And he had hospitalized a man over a simple comment.
He raised his head and stared at the broken down building looming over him. That's right. Everything is dead.
Everyone is dead.
I am dead.
Quietly he stood up, blocking away the sorrows and pains that had consumed his being in favor of a deep nothingness, and moved back into the inn.
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Post by CuteCat on Mar 4, 2013 23:17:27 GMT -5
(Muir-safe story variant! Still contains depression.)
"I'm sorry."
I glance to the child sitting by my side. His voice was surprisingly clear, not the jumbled mess it usually is. Yet... he's just watching me inquisitively. His head tilted lightly to the side like he didn't say a thing.
I'm sure he did ... or is it just the atmosphere getting to me?
I don't know what to respond. He's staring at me, but that's nothing unusual. I've gotten used to those faded, blackened eyes - every time I doze off for even a moment, I wake up to find myself face-to-face with him. As though he is gauging whether I am still alive.
And yet, every time he realizes I am, there is a hint of disappointment.
He will not kill me, only nibble from time to time in an attempt to infect. I am afraid of the thought that I may become like he is... But I do not know any way to prevent it. I refuse to strike him even now, and I am not enough of a coward to take my own life.
My companions are still around somewhere, left to rot. None of them were infected, and none of them came back. I believe one made a move to, but my little friend stabbed his neck until it separated from his body.
I used to think of fleeing, finding a new group and maybe escaping from this hell of a town. But seeing him behave that way, even to a fellow zombie, has made me hesitant. He would kill any new group I found. He would follow me. I am sure of it.
Suddenly the little zombie by my side speaks up, saying my name. It's followed by words I can't make out, too broken and muddled.
"What is it, my friend?" I ask him - I need to speak with something to keep myself together. It may as well be the only living thing I am allowed to stay with. His non-torn ear perks up and he smiles, happy about being given a reply.
"I am sorry for my selfishness."
I freeze. Did he truly say that? There's no doubt he did... But... remorse? Is he capable of such an emotion?
Not being given any reply, his cheerfulness fades and he tilts his head to the side, evidently puzzled. ... I should've known. He doesn't understand what he said.
Why would he say it, in that case? His words have always made sense before - at least, when I have been able to distinguish them.
... Though...
If I think back... He's repeating what I told him long ago. When he was first infected. When he was still alive, my little friend to protect and ...
His puzzled look darkens to a frown and I realize I'm still watching him. He doesn't like being stared at, I found that out some days ago. Tentatively, I pat his head and look away. It feels like I need to say something, anything, rather than let his apology go unanswered. Even like this he's my only little friend.
He leans on me and I sigh, watching the darkness where I'm sure the bodies of my allies lie. "I suppose we're all selfish at times."
"Are you mad at me?"
I glance to him briefly - he's still frowning. Lying wouldn't do much good. "A bit."
He looks off elsewhere and I push his head a little closer, just in case he heard someone and decided to go attack. He doesn't even react to the move, just saying something I can barely make out.
"I didn't mean to."
All I can do is sigh. "I know."
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