Hey everyone, 🙂
Today’s post is about writing from different perspectives. Its been prompted by today’s challenge,
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.
I have written this from three point of views, the wife’s, the husband’s and a random jogger at the park. And I also added a twist from my end: I made the old lady an imaginary character in the whole story. What do you think about the twist? Leave a comment here.
⊃ I know he doesn’t like walking in a park, not anymore. The memory of that fateful evening still haunts him in dreams. Even last night he woke up breathless and sweating profusely. I held him close till the first rays of the sun hit our blinds.
I urge him to accompany me for a walk in the park. He is reluctant but I insist, and get him along. He is walking slow, looking at the ground beneath his feet. I try to engage him in a conversation so that his mind could stop rewinding the bygones. I am worried about him. I take his hand and whisper something in his ear, something I know always makes him smile. But he stops in his tracks instead, clearly taken aback by something or someone. His eyes are fixed on an empty bench to our right. Scared and concerned, I nudge at his arm and he snaps back to realism. He looks at me with tears in his eyes, and I know he was revisited by someone from the past.
⊃⊃ I hate waking her in the middle of the night, with the same story to tell. I fail to forget that incident and even if i try, it stays within my subconscious and creeps up every night in dreams. But she holds me close, every single time. God! I love her so much. She insists on taking me for a walk even though i know she hasn’t slept at all. I try to avoid but she convinces me, like always. The grass is moist from last night’s rain. I walk slow, thoughts running though my head like scenes from a movie. I don’t comprehend when she leans over and says something in my ear. I am reliving a memory of playing in the same park with Lucy, our terrier. I look to my right and there she is, sitting on the bench..my mother. She stops knitting the red sweater and waves at me. And I can’t help but cry.
⊃⊃⊃ Its a usual day for me at the park. I have my ipod plugged in with my favourite song blaring into my ears. I reach the starting point and stretch a little before the jog. Turning right, I see my jog buddy. She looks unusually tired, walking along with some dude. Man! he looks stoned. I am presuming that’s her husband she keeps worrying about. I strongly feel he is schizophrenic and needs help. I keep stretching while talking to myself. Suddenly, they halt… the dude looks over his shoulder and starts crying. Only God knows what he saw. Its kind of scary to live with that kind of person. I decide to talk to her tomorrow about it. Leaving them to each other, I start jogging in the other direction.