To be able to do this I must use my background knowledge of the types of conflict and characterization.
I will show this is my collaborative creative story.
GROUP WINNERS WILL BE BASED ON FLUENCY, CREATIVITY, CONFLICT AND CHARACTERIZATION.
Directions for writing:
1. Form a group of 2-4 people (no more than that)
2. Every one will begin at the same time.
3. First section of writing: each person starts a story that establishes a setting and introduces a character
4. Second section: Trade papers and continue partners story. Be sure to establish conflict in this part.
5. Third section: Trade papers again with a new person (unless you are just a pair) and show character actions.
6. Final section of writing: trade papers again with a new person (unless you are in a group of 2 or 3) and write a conclusion to that story.
7. Read over your stories and choose the best one from your group to be submitted for the contest
Teacher Example (Pair)
Story 1
Mr D’Andrea’s (Setting/Character Appearance)
It felt so strange walking back into that classroom with the cream colored walls after seeing our teacher on the news just a week ago. The school and students really haven’t been the same since everything happened. Hallways are filled with whispers of disbelief and conspiracy theories. “I can’t believe it was him. He didn’t look like the type of person who could do that. His hair was always neat and his clothes were always ironed.” I heard one sophomore say in passing. “You have to admit, he was kinda strange for a teacher though. He seemed so quiet.” another student replied. Kids seem uneasy about being around their teachers. One kid in my Science class, Jeremey, always participates, but today he looked like how I did when my mom told me my dog died. The principal is addressing the school later, but everyone already seems to have their own ideas about Mr. Potowski.
Mr. Ryan’s turn (Conflict):
Every kid in every class had their phones out. YouTube videos of Mr. Potowski, caught by a security camera’s lens in a Target. eating the face off of some poor shopper with mouthwash and toilet paper in her basket. It was surreal, like he was possessed or high or some, dare I say, zombie.
I watched it about fifty times before I noticed a pair of Converse. A pair of converse with two anarchy symbols Sharpied on the white ends. A pair of Converse that I saw a million times. Jeremy’s converse.
And right before the camera clicks off, Jeremy’s Converse is kicking at Mr. Potowski.
Mr. D’Andrea’s (Character’s Action)
I tried not to think about those shoes. Or Jeremy. Or Mr. Potowski. But it was impossible. Around 5th period, the principal called us down to the theatre for our debriefing. When we got to theatre, everyone was there. “Now I know that many of you are alarmed because the videos floating around of Mr. Potowski’s actions, but I assure you that there is nothing to be worried about. The police are here and they are confident that they will find Mr. Potowski.” How can they tell us not to worry I thought. We should be home with our families. “The School is the safest place,” our principal continued. Yea right. Everyone here saw the video of Mr. Potowski eating that shopper like she was one of his groceries. You could see his eyes glare at her right before he jumped over the shopping cart and started devouring.
Mr. Ryan’s (Resolution)
I looked around at the exits. A policeman stood at every door. Deans and useless teachers walked around and stared at their phones. I was three seats away from Jeremy. I looked at him and he seemed to be sleeping. Once in a while he would jerk forward and then back. He was deep asleep.
Sleeping? At a time like this?
I decided that I needed to get out of here. The lunch pizza buzzed around in my belly. A nice, stinky fart should be coming at any minute. My plan: go to the door and say I have to use the bathroom. Then I would fart. The smell would prove I had to go and they’d let me out.
“No. No one is allowed out at this time,” Officer Butthole said.
I squeezed out the fart. It was silent (a good thing) but deadly.
“God,” he said. “Go sit down.”
I was about to explain to him that I really had to go, but I didn’t need to.
A scream erupted from somewhere near where I was sitting.
I looked over as Jeremy was hopping over the seats. A stream of blood jetted up into the air. Officer Butthole took off running and so did I.
Story 2
Mr Ryan’s Story (Setting/Appearance)
Savannah, the blondest girl with the blackest wig at the Halloween party, offered herself a drink. She had been standing in the corner watching zombies smelling like ketchup and witches smelling of cotton candy perfume parade around the house hunting for fresh victims. Victims in this case meant boyfriends or girlfriends. Shoot, it was Halloween, what better time to be shot to death by love’s clumsy arrows.
Mr. D’Andrea’s (Conflict)
As the party got turned up, and the zombies and ninjas got more faded, Savannah became a little better looking to the most popular pirate at the party, Eric. Eric was the epitome of what every parent wants their son to be at age seventeen: smart, considerate, college-bound and athletic. Even the teachers admired Eric. But, that night after Eric had thrown back one too many rum and cokes, Savannah looked unusually attractive to him. He decided then and there that she was going to “walk the plank.”
Mr. Ryan’s (Character’s Actions)
Eric, walking up to Savannah, took out his sword and jumped into some swashbuckling stance and said aloud, “Ahoy there matey.”
Savannah took a drink and looked up to the ceiling. A crack from one wall to the next caught her attention.
“So,” Eric said, “Polly want a drink and a cracker. I’ll be the cracker.” He laughed uncontrollably for a good two minutes.
“So,” Eric said, “Polly want a drink and a cracker. I’ll be the cracker.” He laughed uncontrollably for a good two minutes.
Savannah never looked down. She drove her eyes over and over the crack. Back and forth, back and forth. She started to get sick. Sea sick.
A drop of water hit her forehead. Another drop.
“Come on witch, I have this great tattoo of a skull and crossbones you gotta check out”
“I hope you can swim,” Savannah answered.
The crack became an opening. Water poured down from the ceiling. Gallons upon gallons crashed upon the heads of unsuspecting halloweeners. Some guy in some ironic cardboard box cracked his head on the table. Some Spongebob fell face first into the floor.
Still, more water fell.
Mr. D’Andrea (Conflict Resolution)
After years of being tormented by athletes for not being pretty enough, Savannah perceived Eric’s genuine attempt at wooing her as just another dumb jock trying to tease her. She watched that crack because she made that crack. She stood there as the rain came down because she thought that rain. She wanted to wash away years of being bullied, years of d-bags making fun of her for being weird. But they never put it together. No one ever realized that all those strange things that happened while Savannah was around were because of her. And now, it was too late for them. They would be swept away in a wall of water. And Savannah would be standing there, soaking wet, laughing menacingly.
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