Hello and Welcome! Looks like you have stumbled upon my Narrative 2 unit Website, where we wrote a short story in English, made a book jacket in Design along with surreal art and made a trailer in Web/Audio! It was a project filled with creativity and explorations into one’s mind filled with imaginative stories to tell.

Down below here is the book trailer I made in Web as it promotes my short story: Evanesce.

For English, we had to create characters that would come to life, in a story made up with what we envisioned, along with writing the text for the book jacket. I enjoyed the process of sharing our story with other students and having the chance to read what others batched together with their words during the process of finalizing the story. Here is the story I wrote for English, inspired by letting my imagination flow while staring at my piano one dark night. I chose the title “Evanesce” because it means to pass out of sight, memory, or existence since I wanted to give off a mysterious feeling for viewers and hints of what the title might mean or what it might reveal in the story. To view and or listen to the story I wrote, please go the the English page.

Then we had to create a bookcover for the short story we wrote in English and we also took many pictures, in which some were in HDR to create a surrealistic photo inspired by our dreams or thoughts.

Evanesce

It is a warm afternoon, and two pairs of brown, worn-out boots shoot from under the old black, nine-foot grand piano. Tired white carnations sit inside a glass vase on the table next to the piano. A great big clock ticks with great motion as it echoes into the man's ears, causing him to wrinkle his forehead, balls of sweat rolling down his face. The piano tuner desperately screws a section of the piano into place with his round, meaty hands and thin-skinned fingers.

But it seems he is missing the right tool to finish the job. He peers downwards from under the piano, chin digging deep into his chest to find his toolbox. Squinting through his round, thick glasses, he sees a pair of slender porcelain legs swaying on top of the piano bench away from him at the edge of his feet. The vibrant hum of a young girl fills the room.

He looks back to the body of the piano, thinks to himself, “I need something to keep this intact...I used to be so good at this.” “Hey, mister! What are you doing?”, the young girl shouts with a sweet tone. Startled and bobbed his head against the cool wooden floor. He didn’t realize there was an actual person at his feet, he then makes out the sentence, “I’m really trying to tune this fine piano into shape, young lady.” He smirks, thinking how could this be a fine piano? Enjoying the company of this young girl who he doesn't recognize, he then asks her with his loud, husky voice “Hey, could you pass the gooseneck lever over there?” “This tool?”, as she reaches out to the heavy tool, dragging it to the gnarled hand reaching from under the piano, “It sure doesn’t look like something I would like to use.” She tucks her white dress as she sits back down on the bench. “It’s a tool, so I got to use it in this situation.” “I don’t see why that matters, what is the point of tuning this wooden box?” “It matters a lot, it belonged to my wife.”, he says as he raises the gooseneck to the piano.

Intrigued by the girls enthusiasm and curiosity, the man continues with what he knew true. “What kind of person was she? Tell me more!” she says with glee. “She had silky light brown hair which was always in a bun.” “A bun? I don't like buns!” The man lets out a small chuckle. “Me neither...the bun would always jab me in the face when I gave her quick cuddles in the early mornings.” “Was she a morning people?” “She did love the heavenly sunrise and would get up once the rays of warmth reached our bedside.” “I don’t see why I would miss it!” “Yes, but I didn't understand that...” Large chirps of crickets peel into the small living room. It was getting warmer as the day wears long.The man starts to feel the remorse of his wife that has left to find new adventures elsewhere as he was stubborn with his own work. However, he continues on what was in front of him, the girl peering at the white carnations.

“Were you happy?” The man stops and brings the tool to his chest, looking at the direction of the girl, forehead wrinkled. Sees legs once swaying, still. Her small feet pointing towards the floor. “What do you mean?” Eyes wrinkled, as he goes back to working. Thinking to himself, how might it be possible for children to read minds. The girl pauses. “ I mean were you happy with your wife?” “What does that suppose to-” he pauses thinking to himself, why should he explain this to her. Eyebrows crossed, focusing on a tangled section. “Of course, I was happy.” “That’s good to hear, makes sense why you are tuning this broken piano.” The man raises one eyebrow, not really understanding what the girl is saying. “My mom was a very a nice lady from what I heard, this rooms shouts it.” The man keeps on working. “She had a big clock ticking in the corner of the room, would always play on the big piano she found, that was abandon on the streets. And loved to put out flowers on our wooden round table.”

The man immediately stops what he was doing and pulls himself out under the piano with much effort, slowly. He sits up and peers at the back of a thin girl, in a flowery summer dress. His eyes widen like lit fireworks in the night sky, dark brown bags sit under them. He seems to recognize the girl who suddenly is in front of him.

“I had a daughter who loved wearing white dresses.” He reminiscences and stares straight at the fragile shoulders. The girl doesn’t say anything. “She used to hide under the grand piano all the time when I came home from work.” As he stares intensely at the small figure in front of him. “She used to bring flowers home almost every summer’s day so that she could bring a smile to her mother’s face. She used to sing in the garden in the morning to wake up the birds.” Still, the silence of the room is daunting.

“She never called me daddy because she was shy, said she wanted equality. Whatever that means. She-” “What happened to her?” Choked up, he says,“She disappeared.” The head of the young girl turns, light brown hair whipping away from her heart-shaped face, revealing dark brown eyes filled with wonder. A face that never aged glances back at the man.

“Stacy? Is that you?” “Yes.” “Where have you been all these years?” He claws at the imperturbable figure, but all that he could grab was the dust reflected by the harsh sunlight. “Stacy?! Is that really you? ” “What do you mean where I have been?” As she stands, brushing her faint dress against the dusty bookshelf. “Yes, it is me” He stops reaching out and stares straight at her, she seems almost invisible. “I thought you were gone.” “I am gone.” “No, you are not, you are right here in front of me.” “No. I am not.” “Yes, you are!” “I wish I was.”

The pale face of his turn beat red as he lets gravity pull his weight down into the ground as he sits on his heels. Palms wrap around his sandy forehead like a starfish stuck on a rock. The man starts to breakdown as he remembers when he left his daughter at home by herself when he had to go to work. “Where was I that night?.” “It wasn’t your fault.” “I just had to be at work out of town.” “That was your work.” “ I could have been there when the quake happened.” “But you couldn’t.” “The only thing left standing was this piano, shielded under this rotten bookshelf!” His hands shoot in the air. “I only wanted you to be home.”

The sound of the ice cream trucks leaves a sweet and bitter taste that echoes down the neighborhood. Stacy was crushed under a bookshelf when she was home by herself as the father went to meet with old friends to tune their piano.It was a long dark night and what seemed to be peaceful became deadly. His wife was not home at the time because of family issues, therefore, they both did not know that Stacy was home alone. Here the man chokes on his sharp words. “I was supposed to be back before midnight and then something terrible had to happen when I was tuning a worthless piano.” “Yes, but the piano kept me company when you were away.” “How can this ever be something that can make you happy! A wooden box? An object that is useless and out of tune” “It is not useless, and can still play a melody.” “But-” The girls stare straight at the man. “This piano doesn’t need to be tuned anymore.”

The white carnations were put out by the man for his daughter death anniversary. The man's looks up at the girl, forcefully opens up the heavy, small curtains shielding his eyes. His whole body dripping in sweat, the night pays a visit. Cool air blows in between his shirt glued to his hunched back. The pedals of the carnations sweep into the air. The misty figure dissolves. “Stacy–”, he pleads, warm tears streaming down his face. The petals of the white carnations fly over the worn out, grand piano.

In Design, we created what we thought could be the book cover of our short story. We used Adobe InDesign to create the final product and in the book jacket, we got the pleasure of inserting our own quotes, a made up biography of what we would be 10 years from now, and our own publishing company to includes our made up logo. The process of making a book jacket got me thinking - how do people make covers for books? This lead me to looking at various covers and books and literally judging its cover. I then realize that a cover seems quite a freeform as it could be an illustration, photo, or both. I then took the approach of using both to make an interesting looking book cover to brings off the feeling of how I want the readers to feel.

For my book cover, I wanted to add one of the most symbolic objects in the story which are the white carnations, as it is a flower bestowed for the dead. I meant for the color of the flower to be white because it symbolize innocence, therefore, hinting the hidden facts of the story for the readers to interpret in the end. I also added different pictures of what the tuner could see under a piano because it shows the fragmented memory of the main character in which I wanted to give a similar effect to the one who is viewing.

This is a story that revolves around a decrepit piano tuner who lost his way on a hot summer’s day and converse with a mysterious girl sitting beside a piano. What they accomplished was revealing the past and rediscovering the present, what they didn’t think to uncover was the truth. The truth about the young girl suddenly reappearing in this man’s life to tell him one thing: it’s time to let go. A bittersweet narration, a story about grief and losing someone dear.

Mother Nature decides to pay a room a visit, however sees a sad, giant sprouting onion being shamed by other onions. Mother Nature then shares the loneliness of what the sprouting onion is feeling and decorates the sprouting onion to become beautiful so that the onion begins to accept who it is. Since flowers make you smile, Mother Nature is making it so the giant sprouting onion can shine with the other beautiful flowers. The story I wanted to present was that Mother Nature will always be beside and if we don’t connect back with it, we will lose the connection to its beauty. Another view would be that conformity is not always beautiful, but who you truly are is.

For my surrealism project, I took an HDR photo of a large bathroom window, photos of flowers, a person’s hand, a telephone pole, and a sprouting onion. I then edited the piece in Adobe Photoshop and got the chance to experiment with the tools in the software. I wanted to create an effect of a hand reaching out for another flower and both share a feeling, hence the loss of color between parts of the flower and the color symbolizing that sense of loneliness. The struggle I faced when creating my surrealistic photo was putting many photos and ideas together without the photo losing its composition. I eventually decided to eliminate some ideas and photos to keep what fit.

In web, we did a series of a task, from designing how the book trailer looks to making the audio for the website. Another great goal was to make sure that this website you are viewing right now is working. For me, the most challenging part was probably the making of the entire book trailer as it also involved created audio as I struggled with. I solved the audio problem by playing a piece I thought I found to suit the story in Pro Tools using a soft harp.

To add on to that, creating the website was also tricky as I wanted the repetition of what I did in my trailer- the falling of a pedal from a white flower ( a white carnation in the story) which was one of my symbols I used in my story and is also on the cover of the book jacket I made in design. However, with much help with Mr.Florendo, we solved that problem too by doing some changes in CSS.

The reason why we make storyboards is to map out how the trailer might look like without taking the time and effort in making it first. It is like a guide on how I wanted the trailer to look like and feel.

Designing how the website looks first on the paper provides a layout on how I wanted to create my narrative website based on a common theme of flowers and petals.

Here is the making of the trailer and as you might notice, there are a lot of layers!