{"id":85,"date":"2018-10-16T02:11:24","date_gmt":"2018-10-16T02:11:24","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.freestyleacademy.rocks\/~IlsaA\/?page_id=85"},"modified":"2020-02-03T23:14:01","modified_gmt":"2020-02-03T23:14:01","slug":"narrative-1","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/freestyleacademy.rocks\/~IlsaA\/narrative-1\/","title":{"rendered":"Junior Narrative"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Introduction<\/h1>\n<\/header>\n
The Visual Narrative Project guided students to explore descriptive storytelling by communicating character and story arc. We read George Orwell’s “1984” to have references to descriptive language and strong character persona. We further worked in Adobe Applications as well as others in order to produce our final products.The narrative unit was very fun, yet very challenging at the same time in each of my classes.English class pushed to try out a new way of writing and taught me that even though a short story might be 2-4 pages, it requires a lot of thought and well-versed sentences in order for those pages to have substance. The few pages that are required for a short story must be dense. Initially, I was struggling with “showing” rather than “telling”. An instance of this would be if the main character cried, you would make that evident to the readers not by saying “the character cried”, but by potentially describing something else, like “the character’s classes fogged up”. I enjoyed working with Mr. Greco and my peers while we helped each other put into words our inner vision for our short stories.Digital media helped me to produce the audio version of my short story. It was fun looking for all the right sound effects and music to go along with my recording. After finding all the right effects, I put everything in Adobe Auditions where I compiled and edited every audio clip. My story sounds genuinely interesting when you sit down with headphones and listen, the sounds paint a picture in your brain.In animation, I worked in a group with two other people, where we decided to use my short story to animate. We animated in Adobe Animate after creating our characters in Adobe Illustrator. I am more comfortable animating in Adobe Photoshop, so this project was a healthy challenge. I am glad Ms. A, my group mates, and I were all open to helping each other when we got stuck with a technical difficulty. When we had finished animating, we worked together on the sound design for the film, as without sound, any film would be completely different and arguably less moving. I am very content with the final product.<\/article>\n<\/section>\n
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Story<\/h1>\n<\/header>\n
In English, we were given our narrative assignment in the form of writing a short story, where we were meant to focus on \u201cshowing\u201d rather than\u201dtelling\u201d. We analyzed professional short stories and works in order to gain perspective on how to create a strong and engaging short story. Pulling inspiration from my hometown and from an old friend, I wrote a story called \u201cExtra Bitter Coffee\u201d, where a teenage boy makes a trip to a coffee shop where he ends up getting his heart broken. I thoroughly enjoyed this assignment because I got to apply what we learned about how to create effective short stories to my own work, where I saw my storytelling abilities heavily improve; I was not just writing about something I was passionate and excited about, I also put focus on creating an image in the readers’ head by practicing techniques like sensory detail.<\/p>\n
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Extra Bitter Coffee<\/strong><\/p>\n

A sense of relief washed over Arlo as he remembered it was finally Saturday, and he could sleep in until maybe 6:30 this morning. His five am wake ups to take his dog for a walk were a usual ritual, so sleeping in, for him, meant he was still up early. He threw on his forest green Patagonia (which in its pockets held practically everything he would need to use all day) and grabbed a beanie to cover his light brown curly bed-head hair. He clumsily walked downstairs from his classic teenage-boy bedroom and, forgetting to duck as he normally would, usually he remembers, but today he forgot to duck, and he hit his head on the doorway on his way into the bathroom. His 6\u20197\u201d figure was quite used to events like this, though. His long and slim, yet defined limbs showed his history in playing volleyball, in which he was extremely successful, given the early age he started playing and his height. His giraffe-like appearance had always been a head-turner from people on the streets.<\/p>\n

After brushing his teeth and splashing his face with cold water, he threw on his thick-framed glasses to complete his stereotypical \u201cPortland Oregon hipster\u201d look. These glasses, which he kept in his bedside drawer along with notes his little sibling had written him throughout the years, helped his forest green eyes see close objects clearer. Maybe he was tired or he needed a new prescription, but today they didn\u2019t seem to be helping him much.<\/p>\n

He gave his dog, Fin, a quick pat as he carefully walked across squeaky hardwood floors before pulling on his boots and heading out the door. The first floor of his house was lit with the golden glow of some self-timer lights, as it was mid-November and the sun wouldn\u2019t come up for another half hour or so. It was a good, happy house. A refurbished basement for his parents\u2019 room, the first floor for the living room, kitchen, study, dining room, and bathroom, an upstairs for his room, his little brother\u2019s room, his little sister\u2019s room, and a little storage area that was stuffed with old piano keyboards, toys, and posters written with uneven crayon saying, \u201cARLO aje fiyve\u201d.<\/p>\n

The minute Arlo stepped outside, his nose turned a bright pink color. With each exhale, a  fog, almost like the steam from the soup he had had last night for dinner faced him. His eyes were a little glassy from the stinging cold air. Even the flowers\u2019 dewdrops were frozen in place and the grass had a misty lighter green color because of the frost.  He started down the street, which was more like a compilation of consecutive potholes, on the path to his favorite coffee shop. His neighborhood was often really calm in the mornings, but today it just seemed still. Arlo couldn\u2019t help but think that it seemed like the calm before the storm. He was making the first turn left after the long stretch down the hill, where he would always see the cat. It was almost like a ritual, every Saturday morning, around 6:50 he would see this calico cat perched outside a neighborhood house, sitting, almost as if waiting for himArlo. He would bend down and give her soft fur a pat with his huge hand. This uncomplicated occurrence brought him more joy than he could explain \u2013 it was simple, but always consistent. It was like a mutual understanding that he and the cat had;<\/p>\n

I will wait, and I will be here for you when you come around.<\/em><\/p>\n

Today, the cat wasn\u2019t there.<\/p>\n

He shoved his guitar-calloused hands into his jacket pockets, where his fingers felt the outline of a familiar object. It was the tiny glass bird his girlfriend, Robin, gave him. He had been carrying it around everywhere he went ever since they started dating two years ago. Robin told him it had a piece of her heart in it, so he could never leave it, and he didn\u2019t want to anyways. His thick eyebrows furrowed and he carefully brought the bird out of his pocket and up to his eyes. Its left wing had broken at the tip. This must have happened recently because it had been undestructable and unbroken for so long.<\/p>\n

He knew he shouldn\u2019t feel a little saddened by this, but he did. He hesitated to put it back in his pocket as it might break more. Maybe he was too rough with it by accident.<\/p>\n

He continued through a couple blocks of tightly-packed houses, many displaying different political signs, rainbow flags, or aggressive \u201cSPOILED CATS LIVE HERE\u201d signs. Eventually, he had reached the cozy nook of a coffee shop. His favorite barista was always working on Saturdays. Each week he came in she would either have a new tattoo or a new vibrant hair color. Arlo had come to the conclusion that she must drink at least two cups of coffee before they open shop because she always would have an abundance of energy while taking orders from the groggy, caffeine-starved people coming in. The cold metal of the door handle shocked Arlo\u2019s lukewarm palm as he opened the squeaky vintage-white door.<\/p>\n

The first room of the shop was more like a closet, dark red and purple colored carpets under a couple mahogany tables and chairs, with the menu written in chalk above the cash register and counter. Arlo approached as his familiar barista came to the register.<\/p>\n

It took Arlo a minute to apprehend her new look. Her pixie cut was a medium grey color,\u2026 but not in her usual funky way. It was more dull and normal than what she usually had. Today she merely greeted him with and smile and a, \u201cHey Arlo. How\u2019s your morning?\u201d Usually, she would glide in from the second room and practically yell, \u201cWHAT A SHOCK. Arlo arrives, time: 7:00, order: 16 oz almond milk latte.\u201d Or she would do some kind of funny skit with a huge, indubitably genuine smile.<\/p>\n

My morning has been different. My glasses aren\u2019t working. The world is still. The cat wasn\u2019t there. Its wing is clipped. You aren\u2019t colorful.<\/em><\/p>\n

Arlo acknowledged his true inner thoughts but thought it best not to share them, and just said with a polite smile that his morning was going fine.<\/p>\n

After his shockingly uneventful and even dull ordering experience, Arlo walked to the right, which was where the waiting area and cafe part of the shop was. Arlo let himself stare off into the grey clouds while listening to everyone in the shop\u2019s voices collectively create a steady buzz, with an overlay of clinking porcelain and coffee-brewing and names being called here and there as he stood by the counter. The place wasn\u2019t crowded but there were enough people to keep the barista and her coworkers busy enough not to catch up about the week as they usually would.<\/p>\n

His eyes started to scan the room of people. A thick-bearded man working on his computer, bobbing his head along to music he was listening to through earbuds, two older ladies discussing their granddaughters \u201cintolerable\u201d fashion choices, several singles, a dad with two little daughters sipping (what he assumed to be) hot chocolate and munching on croissants, a couple with matching dreadlocks, another couple, and \u2013-<\/p>\n

That hair.<\/p>\n

Arlo was fixated on the back of a girl\u2019s head. That straight, light auburn colored hair had a special place in his memory. It\u2019s what he would stare at as they sat in the library studying together, she would twirl it around her pointer finger as she focused really hard; as she ran in front of him to catch a spot in line at Oak\u2019s Park for her favorite roller coaster, it would swish violently behind her; at the beach, throwing rocks into the ocean, it would catch the sunlight and look like pure gold; as he would lovingly observe her lying asleep on his couch, it would cover her whole face and lay across her neck; it\u2019s what he spent each homecoming since Sophomore year holding as she lay her head on his shoulder while  he kissed the top of her head and smelled the light honey scent, both of them slowly swaying to below-average music.<\/p>\n

But why is she here alone? She lives in the area but <\/em>usually if she was coming to my favorite coffee shop she would let me know\u2026 No wait \u2013- it\u2019s fine. She probably still thinks I\u2019m at home taking care of my little siblings while my parents are on a trip together. I had forgotten to tell her they came back early last night.<\/em><\/p>\n

Wait, that can\u2019t be right.<\/em><\/p>\n

Arlo, dude. You just need your coffee.<\/em><\/p>\n

Adjacent to her on the same table, there was another coffee mug.<\/em><\/p>\n

Why do I feel like that mug is going to give me hell?<\/em><\/p>\n

She was looking outside, probably looking at the clouds just like Arlo was earlier.<\/em><\/p>\n

So she isn\u2019t alone. Okay, maybe her sister is in town for a bit from college and they decided to go out.<\/em><\/p>\n

But why was there a large flannel draped over the empty chair?<\/em><\/p>\n

It was like his ears were wired to only hear what was occurring next.<\/p>\n

A squeak, and the sound of a door shutting. Some well-used boots clunked from the bathroom to Robin\u2019s table and took place in the chair next to her.<\/p>\n

He watched in disbelief. Robin\u2019s hand grabbed this stranger\u2019s.<\/p>\n

And they smiled at each other.<\/p>\n

Suddenly, the outlines of their bodies were blurry \u2013- in fact, everything was, and Arlo\u2019s glasses were fogging up.<\/p>\n

He quickly turned and faced the workers making the coffee and reached across the counter for a napkin and lowered his head as he quickly wiped tears away.<\/p>\n

It had started to rain.<\/p>\n

He grabbed his to-go coffee cup., They must have called his name ages ago.<\/p>\n

He left the same way he came in.<\/p>\n

Arlo thought to himself.<\/p>\n

My morning was different. I can\u2019t see what\u2019s right in front of me. A storm began. The cat is gone for good. The bird will never fly again. Everything is washed in grey.<\/em><\/p>\n

His coffee was too bitter to enjoy.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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