In writing our stories for the animation I chose to do something less serious than usual, and focus more on how it looked, sounded, and moved. It's a simple, straight forward story about identity crisis, except instead of a person, the main character is an elephant.

Inspiration Short Story
El Elefante Pequenito
(The Little Elephant)

August always brought the rain. Water dripped from leaf to leaf and down to the forest floor. She had always lived in the forest. Weaving from left to right, top to bottom. Lengths of saturated images slowly flowed from her strings, turning and twisting around tree trunks and vines. The orange sun took on another corner and ray as she intertwined the strings with her own hands. Clouds morphed and moved and birds were painted different colors. She went unseen, covered by the height of the trees and denseness of their leaves. Nature has its patterns and equalities. The bird flew through vines and clouds blending with its own feathers until it seemed more like a flash in the corner of your eyes. Different animals had their area of belonging and blend. The girl had made this into her own palette and canvas. So when the little elephant came looking for her, she knew exactly what to do. He had nothing wrong about him, just from his own perception. Surrounded by intricate patterns and an everchanging landscape, his small, wrinkled frame seemed to actually stand out. His gray coloration was his biggest displacing trait in his eyes. One day he finally was able to work up the determination to try and change it.
Nothing was wrong with him, his family told him. It hurt them to even hear his thoughts about his displacement. But it was too engraved in his mind. The girl felt a warm tap on her shoulder. She turned and saw a stranger, standing patiently behind her. He had a kind, innocent aura about him, she never second guessed her want to help him and trust him. She didn't know what she would do, and he didn't exactly know what he wanted but after a few days it took a second glance to even recognize him. He was laced and ornamented with twisting flowers and stems. Water drops and dripping colors outlined every feature. every spot of gray had been covered.
But the days seemed to pass more slowly with a tired, unfitting feeling constantly itching in the back of his head. Heads turned and gasps popped up from everywhere he went. Every flower he saw he could somehow find on his body. This awkward feeling was almost all he noticed. He had forgotten what he saw, felt, or even did before his elaborate move to decorate. Leaves, curves, and clouds all came back to him. He blended more than just in, he blended in and through every where he stepped.
The girl went on, day after day, doing what she did best and the little elephant wanted that for himself. He submerged the end of his decorated trunk into the river and minute by minute, the flowers flowed from him into the river. The old, wrinkled skin showed up between the smudged designs until finally he was happy again.