Narrative storyboard

Narrative storyboard
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Storyboard Text

  • Exposition
  • Give me the hand of thou's   perfect  complexion
  • Inciting incident
  • Falling action
  • "Dear Prudence, why don't you unfold your beauty like a wilting rose. Let me see you smile and awaken the sun; sit with me for while. Let me be the vector of your happiness." I leaped off the metaphoric cliff that i constricted in my mind. Wanting this one wisp to come out and play.
  • Climax
  • In the voice of a thousand angels she whispers the words,"thou wait and see. In life we can never really realize the path of permanence until a nights rest." I go home to the woods where a cabin built by him waits.
  • Falling action
  • He grabs his guitar and makes the most eloquent music. Made for the soul purpose to capture a gods eye. Made to release a souls love and bring to him what he wants. The hand of Prudence Louivelle.
  • Reslolution
  •  The sun rose in its elegance and released a yellow hue that introduced an intoxicating. He couldn't wait for when she stands before him and he explains the only truth he knows. Love. But know one came. Infuriated, he walking to Prudence's home. And with the flames of his anger he torched her home. Burnt down the foundation of her life with one quick throw.
  • As he lays with a guitar he plays the music of his sad heart. As he played the flowers wilted and the trees lost their greenish hue and turned grey. Life wasn't worth existing without her love in his heart. And all he felt was existing, for only the threads of his thoughts and guitar keeping him sane. As he walk to the store to pick up bread and flower he saw her with another man. 
  • Never being able to overcome the thought of her love in someone elses heart. I wrote a letter. To his fellow friend who controls the taxman of the area, he sent the sadness from his soul. Pleading for revenge. But as he wrote he appeared to awaken from the jealousy. He crumble up the paper that held Prudence financial doom. One letter,to make a final finishing blow. But he grabbed his guitar and played. Thinking of what used to be. Thinking of what could've been. Time went on as his guitar gently weeps.
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