Exercise 6

Prompt: Write two versions of the same scene, each told from a different point of view

VIEWPOINT ONE:
Angela looked up at the man and tried to see the signs. Perhaps his face did look a bit rough and angry, and perhaps his fingernails were a bit too long and curved. And then there was the scar on his cheek of course, a think indent turning the skin around it a strange purple. Tom Barley had done that three nights ago, slashed the poor man down with his knife. Poor man? She wondered. Why couldn't she see it as easily as the rest could? They had proclaimed it right away, not a breath of doubt, the night when they had turned him into the court. Witch, witch, witch of the worst kind. Of course, he had been a respectable man before; acres of land and livestock, always a kind heart to the Salinger children. But then that was it, wasn't it? The Salinger children had ended up with tremors and bumps and had died only two weeks ago. No one seemed to think of it as anything but God's will, until Barley came and told tale of man's strange late night hymns, sounding as though they came from the devil's mouth himself. Well, Barley ought to know that the man was wicked, him being his next door neighbor and all. He was there today right in the front of the crowd, a picture of saintliness and community, though Angela thought he must be quite joyful considering he would get all of the witch's land by the end of today. The executioner cried out and the man was lead slowly to the noose. The crowd cheered happily, and Angela closed her eyes.

VIEWPOINT TWO:
George Hardy never wanted to be a bad man. He had always tried to be fair, and kind, but somehow his goodwill had turned against him. Of course, he hadn't been perfect. He had missed church every now and then and he had refused to sell an acre to Barley even though he had downright pleaded. And the children, oh the children, he had not been there when they died. He had gone to pick some raspberries; he had a small cultivation of them in his field and he knew they were the children's favorite. Oh he had been so happy, so proud, carrying the basket brimming with red fruit to their house, only to find that the mourners had come before him.  But surely that had not been enough to anger God's will? Still, looking down at the crowd, their faces blazing with hatred and eagerness for the hanging, their eyes searching his face for the signs of evil, they all made him wonder. The scar on his cheek still burned. Barley had gotten it pretty deep; he could feel the incision on the inside of his mouth, and ran his tongue gently up and down it, trying to soothe it. He looked at Barley now, standing right there in front of the crowd, trying to hide his joy. The executioner on the right of him had finished tying the noose, and he lead George slowly to it, the cheers of the crowd growing horrifyingly happier and louder. George felt the coarse rope fall across his neck, and looked at the crowd in one last moment of despair. Then, giving a quiver of fear, he closed his eyes.