Original A short story by moi.

[Jack's Smirking Revenge]

So this is my basic idea, that obviously needs much expansion, for our final film assignment. It centres around the theme of dreams (could be a dream when you're asleep, or an aspiration style dream). Mine is the latter. There can also be no dialogue;

The scene opens to show a young man, in his late teens browsing through electric/bass guitars in a specialist music shop. After a short time, he sees one that he likes, and picks it up for a closer examination. After holding it a little while and looking over it, he begins to drift off into a daydream.
<o> </o>
In his daydream, the young man imagines himself as a huge star for his music. He sees himself performing live to screaming crowds, on magazine covers, his albums are selling off the shelves in minutes. He is also seen in front of crowds of photographers, posing for the photos and signing autographs. Throughout the daydream, a song is heard in the background; the young man’s signature hit.
<o> </o>
He drifts back into reality and is still standing in the same place, holding the guitar. He looks slightly dazed for a moment, and then realises where he is and breaks out into a smile at what he (believes he) can achieve, with a little practise. After examining the guitar a little more, he makes his decision and takes it to the till.
<o> </o>
There is a short scene, in which the young man is seen sitting in his bedroom, with a music sheet in front him, practising the basics of the guitar. In the background, the same song from his daydream is heard. Around him are several other open books for learning guitar, and there are posters on his bedroom wall of legendary rock stars whom he idolises, and aspires to emulate.
<o> </o>
10 years later, he is no longer a young man and has made a successful career for himself working in an office. He is clearing out a cupboard, possibly looking for something when he comes across his old guitar case. He open it with a smile and looks at it fondly, remembering the time when he was young and genuinely thought he had a good chance at becoming the famous musician he wanted to be. With a smile similar to the one when he first had the daydream and a shake of his head, he places the guitar back in its case and the scene cuts to black.


So thoughts so far?

 

[Fusionist]

It's interesting; a little bitter, but because the young man has become more mature, he doesn't let it control his life.

It's something that a lot of people go through; their grandiose dreams can't be achieved, and they instead "settle" for other things to make a living when reality comes fast at them.

 

[Jack's Smirking Revenge]

The much expanded, and far better version:

Jack sighed as he opened the door to the familiar old class room. He’d been here countless times before, and he imagined that today would follow suite as always; go in, sit down, doze off into some daydream, maybe do a little work, leave. He stepped through the door and was a little surprised to see only the maths teacher sitting at the desk, a stack of tests ready to be marked in front of him. He looked at the board, and saw only his own name written down, with the duration of his detention next to it. The teacher looked up from the test he was marking, and without saying anything motioned to a chair at the front of the room. Ignoring this, Jack walked off to the back of the class and threw himself onto a chair. He was about to pull a book out of his bag when he heard a sharp tapping from the front of the room. He looked, and the teacher motioned to the same chair once again with a serious look in his eyes. Jack was in no mood for a battle of wills with this man, and so complied. He got up, walked to the front and dropped himself into the chair. He took the text book out with his folder of notes and a pen, and opened them up at where he’d left off.
It wasn’t long before he was mind-achingly bored. He looked around the room to see if there was anything else to keep him occupied, but even the funny little sketches of younger students couldn’t amuse him. It had been one of those days. The teacher still hadn’t said a word since his entrance, and neither had he. The only sounds were the scratching of the pen marking the tests and the ticking of the clock. Jack took a look, and saw that only ten minutes had passed. It didn’t seem as if things were going to improve for him. He put his head on the desk in despair and began to hum to himself. Music was a passion of his, and when he was incredibly bored, he would make up tunes in himself. He didn’t expect to be humming for long before he was reprimanded for “disrupting important work” or something, but managed it for a lot longer than he thought. It took a couple of moments for Jack to realise that the scratching of the teacher’s pen had stopped. So too had the annoying ticking of the clock. He looked up to find himself alone in the room. Had the teacher left without him realising? Perhaps he had gone to find someone to fix the clock. Whatever the reason, Jack wasn’t going to sit around here for any longer. He jumped up from the desk and literally sprinted to the door. He opened it slightly, and peered outside. Like the room, the corridor was deserted. Fantastic. He stepped out and set off up the corridor towards the exit. He glanced back, to make sure the teacher wasn’t returning, but there was still no one but him in the corridor. The silence in the building was un-nerving. He couldn’t even hear the blow of the wind outside. His pace began to quicken as he got closer to the door until he was once again sprinting. He burst through the door, almost with bravado and onto the stage, with a screaming crowd in front of him. The atmosphere was electric. Several feet away, there was a microphone on a stand. For a moment, Jack was dazed but then it occurred to him where he was. Of course, he was playing a live gig. Why else would he have run out like that, with his guitar in hand? As he ran up to the mic, he played the first note of his signature hit and the back up band started up in time with him. The reaction from the crowd almost blew Jack away, and he almost lost his composure from it. But he managed to go on, and the crowd reacted even better. They were loving it.
<o> </o>
It was after the show, and Jack was signing autographs for his fans. The flash photography from the cameras was almost blinding, but he played to the crowd. He struck poses with his guitar, and grabbed fans from out of the crowd to pose with. This just made his fans scream his name louder, and he just played up to them even more. He had become accustomed to this sort of treatment since making it big. It had all happened so fast after he first came up with that song that took the nation by storm. Before he knew it, he was being approached by people wanting to be his manager and representatives of various record labels, wanting to sign him onto their company. Within about three months of releasing his first single, Jack had written and recorded his debut album which had gone straight to number one, and he was appearing on magazine covers and the music channels. It was almost surreal the way he had risen to fame so quickly, but at the same time it all seemed to make perfect sense, as if it was exactly how the world was supposed to be. It felt as if everything in the world had been building up to Jack Connor becoming the world’s biggest name in music. What a long way he had come, yet in such a short time. It seemed like yesterday when Jack had first picked up his guitar in that shop on the high street. Back then, being likened to greats such as Jimi Hendrix, Slash, Dave Grohl and Matt Bellamy.
<o> </o>
It was as Jack was turning to pose to the press on his other side, when he heard a clunk. He looked down and saw his guitar at his feet. Jack panicked, and flushed red. That was going to look good in the papers in the morning. He was more concerned, however, about the damage that may have been done to his guitar. He stooped to pick it up, and heard another loud bang.
And as quick as that, he was rudely awoken by the maths teacher at the desk throwing a heavy book down onto his desk. Groggily, Jack lifted his head off the desk where it had been resting and peered through sleepy eyes at the teacher. His face was beet red with anger, but Jack didn’t care. He was still disorientated as to how he ended up in this room with notes in front of him. Then reality came back to him and he remembered the detention. Behind the teacher on the board, he saw his name written under the word “DETENTION”. He looked at the clock on the wall and saw his time in the room was nearing an end. He looked back at the teacher, but he had gone back to making notes on the test papers. For the next ten minutes or so, Jack sat absently mindedly doodling in the back of his note book until the bell rang somewhere in the school building signalling the end of the days detentions. The teacher briefly looked up at Jack and nodded to the door to confirm that he could leave. He gathered his things and left out of the same door as his dream, smiling a little at the memory of running onto the stage to the crowd.
<o> </o>
10 years later, Mr. Jack Connor was looking through the cupboard he kept all his important files and other bits in. He knew the particular one he wanted was somewhere in here – he could remember putting it there – but it was eluding him. He pulled the computer chair over to get a better look at the top shelf, and moved a pile of sheets out of the way when he saw a black case that was familiar. He knew exactly what it was, and put looking for the folder off for a while. He slid the case out from the back of the cupboard, and dropped it to the floor and looked inside. There it was, just as he remembered it; his old guitar from his younger days. Back when he was a budding musician and genuinely believed that he was going to be a star one day. He lifted it out and ran his fingers over the strings fondly. He slung it over his shoulder, and struck a pose, just like he used to all those years ago, as if he was posing for the press. He took it off, and placed it carefully back in the case, smiling at his naïveté of his youth and shut the case.

 

[Casanova]

I'm liking it, Poolz.

You've a nack for this kind of stuff, it seems.

Just one thing: Needs more paragraphs.

Other than that it's all good and I enjoyed reading it.

 

[Jack's Smirking Revenge]

It was sent of to my mate for proper formatting, since I only really paragraph when there's a major change of scene. It was never a strong point of mine.