In English, we studied screen plays and other short stories to understand the art of telling a story, communicating meaning, and translating emotion, with very few words. Instead of just creating one story though, we wrote three, one from each perspective: 1st person, 2nd person, and 3rd person. As a result, I turned the final story into an animation, which you can view under the 'WebAudio' tab.

Screen Play

FADE IN: AFRICAN DESERT – DAY The Elephant is running across the desert ground in an attempt to escape the poachers and ominous whirring sound of their helicopter. He stumbles over his feet, falls and breaks a tusk. At this time the poachers are gone. FADE TO SCHOOL All of the elephants are playing games, and the elephant walks up and asks if he can join. The other elephants give him dirty looks and exclude him. Elephant walks away looking hurt. CUT TO TEACHER – CONTINUOUS Teacher peers out of the school building to see this scene, but does nothing to help the excluded elephant. FADE TO SCHOOL – “HIGH SCHOOL” The Elephant is in class, learning about the other animals in the African animal kingdom. Teacher shows diagrams of different animals and one of an elephant. CUT TO ELEPHANT looking forlorn as he is reminded that he’s not normal. FADE TO AFTER SCHOOL Elephant is walking down school steps and is being taunted by the other elephants. CUT TO MEMORY Elephant thinks he hears the sounds of the helicopter and starts running away. He finds solace behind a tree, where another elephant was already chilling. FEMALE ELEPHANT (GESTURES) Are you okay? ELEPANT (GESTURES) Confused. (He then realizes that there is no helicopter, rather it was just the noises of the teasing the caused him to flash back.) FADE TO ELEPHANTS Walking off toward school, everything’s okay now.

Narrative 1st Person

I can remember the day like it was yesterday. The entire family was out for our after-dinner stroll when the helicopter sound, not to mention that of gunshots, got louder and louder until it felt like they were right above us. I heard mom yell “run!” and so I did. That is, until I tripped on my own two feet. There was this crunching sound, and I looked around only to notice that my tusk had been broken. And I guess that’s when it all started—the name calling and the ostracizing. I could remember one time early on when we had to choose partners for a school project, and the odd number of students had left me alone. Teachers would always give me look of sorrow and pity, but never do anything to help or say anything constructive. It didn’t end there, though. Later on, as I grew older, the comments turned rude and cold-hearted, and suddenly others were picking on me simply because I was short one tusk. Now, it may not seem like a big deal, but in my parade, having one tusk is more than a symbol of being clumsy or careless, two traits that are far from desired in my community, but having one tusk is a symbol of human power. Of letting the humans win—there’s nothing an elephant fears more than feeling powerless. Yesterday I had an especially bad day at school, the usual students were feeling particularly aggressive. But that wasn’t what made it terrible. As I was leaving, I heard the sound of the helicopter. Flashing back to that day, I started running, when suddenly I heard a voice. “Are you alright?” She said to me. I couldn’t respond, for I was in shock from the fear of the helicopter, but also from the fact that someone was actually talking to me. “I’m new here,” she said, “and I could use someone to show me around.” She didn’t care about the tusk at all, it seemed. She was just looking to see if I was alright, and if I could be her friend.

Omniscient Perspective

The sun was setting as Jumbo’s large feet pounded on the dry Savannah floor, and in the distance a cheetah was putting her cubs to bed, a family on safari was turning out the kerosene lamp just outside the tent, and the steady hum of nighttime bugs had filled the air. But Jumbo was running for his life. His mother had been the first one to hear the distinctive whirring of the helicopter, and it was she who told Jumbo to run. He didn’t exactly know where he was headed, but he knew that it was important to find cover—and fast. Suddenly though, Jumbo tripped over himself and landed trunk-first in the dirt. It took him a minute to realize two things. One, the poachers and their helicopter were gone, but two, the tusk he had landed on was now broken in two perfectly imperfect pieces, one of which would not heal back. All through life Jumbo faced ridicule and torment for being the only elephant in hi parade with one tusk. It wasn’t just that the lack of two tusks represented Jumbo’s overall clumsiness, which was not appreciated by the elders, but that his one tusk was a representation of that day in which the poachers had gotten the best of the elephants. Years later, Jumbo heard the noise that had once tormented him, and so he started running once more. This time however, the noise was in his head, there was no helicopter. A voice brought him back to the present, “Are you alright?” Jumbo looked up from where he had curled up on the ground, quivering in fear, to see the face of an elephant he hadn’t seen before. “You okay? I just moved here, so I don’t really know anybody. I was wondering if you could show me around.” Jumbo was so surprised by the kind elephants words that he couldn’t speak. He simply nodded his head, got up, and walked into the distance with her.

First Person Antagonist

I can remember the day Jumbo tripped and broke his tusk. In fact, everyone can. I don’t know why he was out late, but at one point he just began to run. You could see the poachers in the helicopter not far behind him, but suddenly they were gone and Jumbo was on the ground. I don’t quite know what happened, but the clumsy guy seemed to trip over himself--*sigh*. Anyway, that was then, but I can’t say that things have improved for him much. Then again, he sort of brought it on himself. I was his teacher early on, and it was clear from the start he was going to have difficulty making friends. I mean, who wouldn’t with uneven tusks like that? I knew it was something he would just have to get over, you know, draw strength from within and use the experience as one to learn from. I never picked on him like the others, but it was hard not to stare or give a sorrowful look his way in the hall. Some don’t understand. They think that this isn’t a big deal—but it’s monumental. In our parade, losing a tusk is like a symbol of weakness. It’s a symbol of defeat to the humans who would love nothing more than to cut them both off to make some money. I don’t mean to despise him, it just comes naturally—that’s how I was brought up, and that’s something he’s going to have to deal with. A peculiar thing happened the other day, though. School had just gotten out and he just took off running. It was almost like he had behaved all those years ago when the helicopter came. He sort of settled down when another elephant who I’d never seen before approached him. I don’t quite know what happened, but I guess things worked out well.