//------------------------------// // Chapter One // Story: Flash Reads a Wally Fic // by shortskirtsandexplosions //------------------------------// Flash Sentry was dead. Dead tired. It was homeroom class. The morning. The apocalypse. The whatever. The young man sat limply at his desk, slumped over, his heavy face making an even heavier impression against the desktop. His ears tickled with the sounds of papers rustling, iPhones plinking, and tired classmates muttering some lethargic gossip or another. Was it Wednesday? It must have been Wednesday. Hump day. Could have been worse; Flash hated Thursdays more. It was always a sore thing: twenty-four hours after the Hump. First period was just fifteen minutes away. The boy kept his eyes shut, and in so doing prolonged the oozing seconds under the interminable veil of darkness. It was a queer form of self-punishment and the brutal irony was not lost to the teen. Then, loudly and abruptly, an excited series of footsteps pierced his eardrums. Flash stirred—then outright flinched as he heard a bookbag thump to the ground beside him. Soon after, a desk squeeeeeeeeaked cacophonously towards him, no doubt waking the entire room. He bristled and contemplated rolling a blind haymaker into the face of the malignant noise-maker until he heard the author speak in a tender, feminine voice: “G-good morning, Flash...!” She sounded like a Protocol Droid trying to deliver a rousing speech to a sea of stormtroopers—hushed and timid but also strangely determined. “Flash Sentry, remember me?” Flash sat up, blinking towards a hazel green shape with thin eyes. “Yes, Miss... Blush. I remember.” “Oh!” A sweet smile—like some squeaky anime chick come to real life. “That's g-good!” she giggle-gasped. No lie, Flash felt a tiny flutter in his chest vacuole. It was just so darn cute—even cuter coming from its mousey source. “Uhm... I was wondering if you also remembered... … …?” That... he had forgotten at that particular moment. For a brief moment, his heart sank... but it then rose swiftly back up on strings of salvation. Flash had been dead-bored the previous afternoon after school, so he spent an hour or two reading the story Wallflower had forwarded to his e-mail address. It was good time made. After all, he had only agreed to check out her writing during a random chat session they both had on the morning of the same day. And now it was barely twenty-four hours later and she was asking him for feedback. Wallflower's punctuality certainly overstepped her otherwise timid exterior. He didn't know whether to be scared or proud. Soon, he realized, it didn't matter. There were a few lousy minutes left to kill in home room and he might as well spend them brightening the day of a sweet classmate who obviously valued his literary opinion for some reason. “So...” He threw on his best Garrison Keillor voice, nodding thoughtfully at the frumpy damsel. “...your fanfic.” She nodded. “Yes... my... uh...” She reached up to stroke her green bangs—then bapped her own hands and chose to sit upright and attentive instead, smiling hopefully. “...my fanfic!” “I read it yesterday afternoon, as a matter of fact.” “Yes. And?” “And...” Flash inhaled. “...it was... interesting.” He exhaled. She blinked. “... … ...interesting?” “Uh huh.” “Interesting... … ...” Wallflower glanced left and right, squirming in her seat. “...how?” “So Link is getting together with... uh... Gunther—” “Ganondorf Dragmire,” she clarified. “The King of Thieves. First born male leader of the Gerudo in his century. Defiler of the Sacred Realm and current possessor of the Triforce of Power—” “Right.” Flash cleared his throat. “And—obviously, out of the gate—that's a whole lot to chew on. What—with Ganondorf and Link being rivals to each other in the canon video game plotline and all—” “Oh! I know that!” She leaned forward, beaming. “That's why I spent an extra long time at the start of the chapter explaining how Ganondorf got out of the Sacred Realm and why Link's past self phased back with his future self, combining both extensions of the Hero of Time beyond the limitations of the alternate universes—” “Ah. So that's the reason for the huge exposition dump at the start.” “... … ...” Wallfower's tongue lingered in the air. “Exposition...” She slowly sank back in her desk chair. “...Dump?” Flash nodded. “That was quite the hurdle for the brain to leap over on the first page.” “But... but...” Her lips pouted as she sank further and further. “...I thought it was necessary to fill the reader in on why the characters are the way they are so that they wouldn't have too much suspending of their disbelieving...” “... … ...huh?” “The reader shouldn't have too many questions to ask once we get to the romantic bits—” “Oh! For sure!” Flash nodded. “But... meh...” He blew out the side of his mouth. “I guess it's all just a matter of flow.” “Flow?” “I mean—it's just the first chapter of this story you're working on. And half of it is explaining how things got to where they are. The other half is... well... Brokeback Mountain in a desert tent.” “Yeah? So?” “So... it feels kinda lopsided.” Flash gulped, gazing off in search of his thoughts. “Like... my brain just got done trying to tackle the cosmic circumstances that have allowed this romantic pairing to even happen. But... shouldn't the audience only really care about the couple and their passion?” “Oooh! Passion!” Wallflower leaned forward again. “Wasn't the love-making scene super immersive and romantic?” “I... guess...?” She paled again. “Was this thing a first draft?” “... … … … … ….maybe.” “Cuz—to me?” Flash gestured. “It sorta looks like someone wrote a simple and to-the-point love scene. And then someone else stole their word processor and peppered in a bunch of redundant dialogue bits.” “So...” The poor girl was sweating. “...the dialogue was lame.” “Not lame per se...” Flash smiled hopefully. “Just... weirdly placed.” “How so?” “Nobody's gonna take Link seriously if he's monologuing a detailed paragraph about his lonesome childhood as a fairy-less orphan in the Lost Woods... while he's being forced against a tent pole by his bigger, well-muscled lover.” Flash took a breath. “There's a time and a place, y'know? At that particular moment, you're trying to be sensual... and the tone is off! Just because—from what it seems—you're trying to divulge too much information at once.” “But I want the readers to know the positions of the two characters,” Wallflower said... then blushed. “Erm... emotionally and mentally, I mean.” “I get that. But it's all about timing, right?” Flash smiled at her. “Same with the exposition dump at the start. You gotta... space it out.” “Space it out?” “Yeah. Thread the background of the plot in between the rising actions. Perhaps internalize the narrative a bit instead of relying so much on telling in the dialogue. Or—!” He perked in his seat, pointing. “Start in media res!” “In... media... res...?” she squeaked. “Yeah! Some Christopher Nolan jazz!” He winked. “Start off with Link riding into the Gerudo Desert, about to meet up with his lover. Then weave back and forth in time to reveal the exposition in tiny sequences. Like... snack food backstory! Give the audience tiny nibbles here and there—just enough to keep them wanting. But, in the meantime, you keep the passion and conflict of the main characters in the foreground! Since—after all—that's what matters the most.” “Oh! What did you think of the conflict that I made?!” Wallflower asked in earnest. “... … ...about Ganondorf's quest to defeat the two evil witch hags who raised him?” “Yeah! That!” “... … ...I didn't really get how it related to his desire to make love to Link.” “Oh...” Wallflower deflated, tonguing the inside of her cheek. “If nothing else, it was kind of a turn-off during the tent scene.” Flash winced slightly, smiling. “Take that as a compliment...?” “But... but...” Wallflower's puppy dog eyes raised back. “...it was written well, at least?” “Uhhhhhhhh... sure!” “No typos? Grammar flubs? Mistakes in spelling?” “Nope. No, I could... uh... tell that you proofread it once or twice. Which is good.” “... … ...so what's the problem?” Flash sighed. “The problem, Miss Blush, is that you can have a story that's squeaky clean and mathematically perfect...” A prolonged shrug. “...but still clunky without good pacing and tone.” Wallflower exhaled slowly. “I see...” “But—!” Flash gestured. “Don't be disheartened! It's a really... really solid accomplishment for a first draft, Wallflower.” She sighed sideways, eyes falling towards her backpack. “No it isn't.” “For real! It's not bad! I mean it!” He leaned back. “Just needs to be fixed in a few places.” “Yeah. I guess.” “I mean... I read it for a solid hour and I didn't put it down!” She leaned down. “You were probably bored at the time.” “Will you stop being so down on yourself?” Flash folded his arms. “I can tell it took an awful lot for you to open up with someone about the literature you enjoy writing. And—well—we've passed that hurdle, and now what? You've got some input to glean from!” He shut his eyes with a contented sigh, leaning back in his seat. “That's... just what life is in general, y'know. Taking risks... making mistakes... learning from them. You don't have to be alone in the journey, either, y'know. Nice thing about having friends to chat with is that you can analyze things together, come to an understanding, and find ways to remember, adapt, and gro—”