Day Nine: Point of View–Today’s Prompt: A man and a woman walk through the park together, holding hands. They pass an old woman sitting on a bench. The old woman is knitting a small, red sweater. The man begins to cry. Write this scene.Today’s twist: write the scene from three different points of view: from the perspective of the man, then the woman, and finally the old woman.
The man wept as if his dog had just died, his best friend. Oh, Grandma, he thought, how can I live without you? Who’s going to send me birthday cards and laugh at my jokes and, and, pay my bills? No one loves me like you do, er, did. I’m sorry, so so sorry. I didn’t mean to kill you. It was an accident. Please forgive me, Grandma. I can’t figure out how it happened. You had gone into the house and I was backing into the garage when…I’m sorry I didn’t see you. You shouldn’t have been back there. Grandma? Oh, God, how will I cope without you to watch over me? Continuing to sob, he turned away from the old lady on the bench and walked toward the lake.
His sister watched as he walked away, murmuring, “George? George? What are you crying about?” That old lady doesn’t even look like Grandma, Madge thought, so why is he acting like such a baby? Geez. Oh, great. Now the old lady is looking at me, as if I could explain his moods. “George? You’re acting stupid again.”
I hope she’s not looking for conversation. I’ve had all the inane conversations I can take for a lifetime. That old bitch could bore a statue to tears. You’d think George would be glad to be rid of her, yammering on about the good ol’ days and her widdy-biddy Georgie-pie! Yecch! What a phony she was! Slobbering all over him like he was the crown prince. After the way she mistreated my Dad and my Mom, and me, you’d expect George to realize what a horrid old witch she was. But no, all he saw was his Grannie come to protect him from the mean old world!
She thought she was just going to horn in on us after Mom and Dad died, expecting me to clean up her filthy messes. Let Georgie change her disgusting diapers. But, no, not her sweet widdle boy! Let the other one do it. That’s all I ever was to her, ‘the other one.’ Was it because I was a girl, or was it because I saw right through her façade? She despised me in any case and she mistreated me my entire life. Yet I am supposed to tolerate her unrelenting hatred and wait on her like Cinderella? No. For once, old lady, I get to be the center of attention. The ‘accident’ was just what I needed. So easy, too. I just whispered that Georgie was calling her for a special surprise. “Close your eyes.” Thump. Crunch. Thud.
The old lady knitting the red sweater gazed at the woman as she stared after the young man. She thought, I don’t know what that was all about, but I do wish these kids would take their drama elsewhere. They’re making such a racket the agent I’m expecting won’t even stop if he sees or hears them. A nice, quiet park and a sweet old lady knitting a red sweater. Such a simple plan for a secret meeting with a man carrying secret plans. Industrial espionage used to be so easy. Oh, dear, she thought, I’ve dropped another stitch.
©2015 Linda L Labin, PhD