Mollie+F.

Told through five photographs organized side-by-side, the story would relate the...interesting...late excuse of a student who apparently runs into fictional creatures, historical figures, and the occasional celebrity on the way to school. I'd need (and will probably end up taking myself) a photograph of a clearly stressed person looking at an alarm clock. Following that, three images of the person encountering the aforementioned oddities, and, lastly, the student photographed mid-explanation to a skeptical looking teacher. I wouldn't use any specific software, I'd just take the pictures with my camera or iPod, upload them to my computer, and then find the images of things I cannot actually photograph on Google Images. Then I'd drag them to my desktop and just cut the shapes out and paste them into the photographs of the person to be featured in the 5-frame story.
 * DIGITAL STORY PROPOSAL:**

Found Story:

FOUR PIECES (PEER FEEDBACK ASSIGNMENT)

<--- Genre Story....too lazy to type the actual name in.







A dull throb resounded in my head, and my knuckles stung from where the stones and tar had scratched them. The smell of tar and liquor was heavy in the air, which I really ought to have expected, given my nose being between a rock and a bottle. I rolled over onto my stomach and found myself staring at a pair of crossed, jean-clad legs. “Wha-?” I mumbled, unable to lift my head and identify the person. “And good mornin’ to you, sunshine.” Luckily for me, the heavy British accent was all I needed. “Alex.” I stated, sighing. If I even tried to think, I was positive my brain would implode. “‘Oh Alex, I’m //so// happy to see you. We had an absolute //blast// last night. P.S. I am //so// very sorry I ever called you a wanker, and my British accent is absolute rot.’” He whined. I sat up slowly, and surveyed my surroundings. The house was behind me, I lay in the middle of the road, and Alex sat comfortably in the chair from the living room on the sidewalk. I kicked away the Bud Light and groaned, rubbing my head. “How can you even talk?” I muttered. “I’m willing to put my personal misery on hold for yours,” he replied, taking a swig from the tiny flask. “What happened? And why are we in the street?” “Billy Idol, Jack Daniels, the usual,” he shrugged. “Then your darling __best__ friend’s girl locked us out of the house.” I vaguely remembered dancing on the __mini__ stage in my basement. And alcohol. And I was definitely remembering singing Dancing With Myself with Alex. Oh God. “I sang.” “Indeed you did. Got quite the lungs, you do. A little pitchy, if I do say so myself.” He cocked is head. “You do have a surprisingly high tolerance for alcohol, though.” “I grew up in a vineyard, dimwit,” I muttered, pulling myself off the ground and standing up. “I’m going inside,” I announced, heading to the garage for the spare key. “She took the spare key in,” he called after me. “Your mates thought of everything- we’ll just have to wait till they wake up.” “I don’t think so,” I snapped, flicking out my Swiss army knife and heading for the __window__. Prying the lock open, I slid the glass up and leapt inside. Alex was at the __window__ in a flash. “So that’s it, then. We’ll just forget the little bonding-over-heartbreak moment we had last night?” He paused. “And early this mornin’?” “That’s the plan.” I started to pull the __window__ down, but the laws of physics, and Alex’s superior strength, kept the window open. “Dani-” he began. “Alex, you’re still a bastard, ergo, I still hate you.” “Sunshine-” “I’m sorry, we’re closed for service. Have a good day, sir.” I sing-songed, slamming the window down. Problem one: solved. Now to make sure this never happened again.

Dear Mollie, I found your story about the evil queen from snow white to be really hilarious. I especially loved the ending and the way you described Snow White from the Queen's perspective. I was able to see the characters from a different perspective, I love how you may the queen seem more logical rather than just pure evil. I find it interesting how you mention Snow White is a "stripper name". The figurative language was nice, especially in describing Snow White's skin. However, I believe you could have gone more in depth, the story was a bit aburpt. Possibly mention how Snow White killed her, and how she tried to kill Snow White. Allow the reader to feel her emotions more. I could feel the sarcastism from her voice and how she feels her life is unfair, but maybe go more in depth into those emotions. Furthermore, I like the use of show-not-tell. It's a intriguing and humorous story. Sincerely, Grace P.S. love the way you spell color "colour"

Dear Mollie, Your story is a bit confusing near the ending, though, it does have a nice beginning. I love the way you describe maple syrup with rubber. It's also interesting how the Canadian finds husky as the way of transportation rather than cars. I find this letter to be very interesting clearly showing what the Canadian thinks of us Americans. However, there seems to be some typos in your story and near the end I don't understand what you're trying to say. It's a good piece that needs more clarification Sincerely, Grace.

Dear Mollie, I read the queen thing. I think you pulled if off! what i mean is... the queen sounds very evil. thats good... I think. I enjoy how you made all the positive traits of snow white, into negative things such as the snow white skin and red lips. though i don't think the queen was so ranty( not a word) i think you convayed the queens feelings well. though i believe that the queen could have been more serious... i think the overall piece worked well. sincerely, Luke