Okay, as promised, here is my CWG lesson 24!
Whose Eyeglasses?
Point of View
1.) Rewrite the first scene (250 to 500 words) for a mystery story in first-person point of view.
A. “Who could’ve done this?” I murmured to myself as I crossed my trembling arms and leaned against the wall across from my locker; or, what used to be my locker. I rolled my eyes and sighed deeply, just as I’d done many times after I had discovered my books in shreds and my belongings crudely spray-painted, thrown to the floor like they were meaningless garbage. There was never a person I met throughout my life that didn’t like me, so why was someone doing this to me now?
I turned, and in a flurry of anger, drove my fist into the brick wall beside me. Pain hurtled through my wrist and traveled well up into my arm, but I didn’t care. I wanted to know why the person trashed my locker. With a scoff, I stared at my stuff all over the floor of the hallway; I felt my face growing red as the anger inside me rose.
Without warning, something gently touched my shoulder. “Hey, calm down. It was probably just a random hit.”
I woke up out of my mounting resentment and turned toward the familiar voice. My old friend, Charity Jenkins, had evidently caught word of what happened. I looked down at her encouraging expression.
“Hey, Charity.” I took a breath and did my best to look like I had it all together. “How’s it going?”
She nodded slightly and gave me a small knowing smile; her teeth glared white against her dark skin. “So, are you going to listen to what I said, or are you just going to change the subject and not deal with it?”
“I’m dealing with it!” I sighed at Charity’s “Yeah, right” look and ran a hand through my thick hair. “Okay, maybe I’m not, but come on! What do you expect?”
“Reece, I expect you to calm down and let me help you out. Okay?” Charity’s brown eyes drilled holes into mine.
I nodded; that little spark of anger was still there. “Alright, then. What do you suggest we do?”
Ignoring my sarcastic tone, Charity pointed to something within a crowd of students that were gathered around…me.
Charity headed for the crowd and dove into it. I stood stunned, watching all of the kids who in turn were staring at me. This is awkward…
I felt a nudge against my shoulder; I instinctively whirled around to tell the person to watch where they were going. Charity’s friend, Dakota O’Neill, stood next to me. I closed my mouth and swallowed the words I had almost thrown in her face. Dakota was a shy girl, but that was understandable because she was new to the town. What I didn’t understand was the fact that she rarely said anything.
“Hey Dakota,” I said, turning my back to her.
“I know who did it.” A whisper barely touched my ears.
I jerked around. “What did you-…?”
Dakota opened her mouth, but stopped, eyes wide, as she crumpled to the floor in a heap.
2.) Rewrite the scene, using third-person limited viewpoint.
A. Reece McCauley stared at the mess that littered a small section of the hallway. Papers with notes he’d written and books for his many classes were scattered left and right; his locker door had been ripped off of its hinges and thrown to the floor. With a groan, Reece crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, giving the convincing illusion that he had it all together, when in truth, he was about to flip out.
Pictures of friends were torn in half and crumpled, the football magnet that made its home on his locker door was on the floor; red spray paint covered everything to a point beyond recognition. Reece clenched his fist and resumed gazing hard at the destruction; he sensed movement around him, but that didn’t matter.
Without warning, Reece whirled around and punched the brick wall he had been leaning against with a fierce rage. He inhaled sharply as he drew his hand back, and diverted his eyes down to his defaced belongings on the floor. He could feel his face growing red as the anger built up. Whoever did this was asking for it.
He felt a slight tap on his shoulder and a soft voice filled the air. “Hey, calm down. It was probably just a random hit.”
Waking up out of his trance, he turned around to face the familiar voice. His best friend Charity Jenkin’s soft, brown face filled his vision. His heart lifted a little at the sight of her concerned expression; many years of friendship with her taught him that she would always stick by him, no matter what.
“Hey, Charity.” He drew in a breath, trying to look composed. “How’s it going?”
Charity nodded and gave him a small smile that said she didn’t believe him. “So, are you going to listen to what I said, or are you just going to change the subject and not deal with it?”
A flare of anger jumped up in Reece; Charity also knew how to push his buttons. “I‘m dealing with it!” He protested. With a sigh at the doubtful look on Charity’s face, he ran a hand through his fiery red hair. “Okay, so maybe I’m not, but come on,” He threw his hands up. “What do you expect?”
“Reece, I expect you to calm down and let me help you out. Okay?” Charity looked at him seriously.
Reece finally gave in. “Alright then,” He said in a more than sarcastic tone. “What do you suggest we do?”
Charity gestured to her left, where a crowd of students stood clamoring and gaping at the destroyed locker. Reece blinked in surprise; where had they come from? They were all staring at him.
Charity left Reece’s side and strode straight into the mass of kids. Reece stood paralyzed. What should he do? Follow Charity?
He felt a gentle nudge against his shoulder; he instantly jumped back in surprise. Dakota O’Neill, a slender girl with bleach blond hair stood next to Reece, her gray eyes on him. A chill went down Reece’s spine at the sight of the girl who had just moved into town. There were some rumors that she had a criminal record, and that her goal was to burn down the school (which some kids wouldn’t mind). He shook off the thoughts; Charity had befriended Dakota, so she couldn’t be that bad.
“Hey Dakota,” He said, turning back to view the crowd.
A whisper that sounded more like a hiss met his ears. “I know who did it.”
Shock coursed through him at the comment. He whipped his around to see Dakota. “What did you-…?”
Dakota inhaled, then opened her mouth to speak; she suddenly went rigid, her eyes widened, and she fell to a heap on the floor.
3.) Then write the same scene using an omniscient viewpoint.
A. He had to make sure he had enough time. Without time, there was no pulling this off. He jogged down the hallway, his bag full of necessary supplies. He looked around nervously as he pulled a huge pair of clippers out of his bag. Time was one supply that he didn’t have much of. He had to get the job finished, or he wouldn’t get his reward.
Dakota O’Neill strode through the hallways, taking her own sweet time to get back to her class. She didn’t want to be here, she never did; why would she want to be four hundred miles from her real home? She sighed and shoved her hands into the pocket of her hoodie. There were so many people here, so many who thought she was a murderer or something. Dakota hated it. Just because she had gotten into trouble one time didn’t mean she was a criminal mastermind.
She rounded the corner of the hallway, but soon stopped in her tracks. Someone was down at the other end of the long hallway, ripping papers and books out of a locker. Dakota squinted, trying to see what exactly the person was doing. She backed behind the corner of the wall and peeked around it. She exhaled sharply; she recognized him!
He backed up and admired his work. There! It was a masterpiece! The lanky figure grinned as he shook the canister of spray paint and squirted one last blast onto the locker door. “Finally, that hotshot Reece McCauley will get his!”
Dakota’s heart skipped a beat at the guy’s violent outburst. What could he possibly have against Reece? Everybody liked him; as far as Dakota knew, there wasn’t a single person in the school who had a grudge against Reece. She breathed slowly and deliberately. I’ve got to warn him.
Reece McCauley stared at the mess that littered a small section of the hallway. Papers with notes he’d written and books for his many classes were scattered left and right; his locker door had been ripped off of its hinges and thrown to the floor. With a groan, Reece crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, giving the convincing illusion that he had it all together, when in truth, he was about to flip out.
Pictures of friends were torn in half and crumpled, the football magnet that made its home on his locker door was on the floor; red spray paint covered everything to a point beyond recognition. Reece clenched his fist and resumed gazing hard at the destruction; he sensed movement around him, but that didn’t seem to matter.
Charity Jenkins pushed her way through the crowd that was increasing in size. Word had made it all across to the other side of the building where she was having her chemistry class that Reece’s locker had been sacked. She had to get to Reece before his temper got the best of him.
She emerged on the other side of the river of students; before her was a mess that looked like Reece’s locker exploded. She quickly scanned the area and picked out Reece. She was just in time. He was holding his wrist to his chest and his face was turning a queer shade of brick red.
She walked up behind him and touched his shoulder. “Hey, calm down.” She nodded toward the disarray. “It was probably just a random hit.”
She watched Reece blink a few times, then finally grin in recognition. “Hey, Charity,” He took a deep breath; his shoulders slumped as if he’d just lost a battle. Charity’s heart melted at the sight. She hated seeing her friend like this.
Reece cleared his throat. “How’s it going?” It took him some effort to curl his lips into a smile.
Charity restrained herself from just giving him a big hug. She was pretty sure that he wouldn’t exactly appreciate her doing that in front of all of the students. “So, are you going to listen to what I said, or are you just going to change the subject and not deal with it?” She felt kind of mean, but she knew she had to get him out of it, somehow.
Reece’s green eyes flashed at her, but subdued themselves immediately. “I’m dealing with it!” His fierce look was quickly chased away by uncertainty. “Okay, so maybe I’m not, but come on,” He threw his hands up in exasperation. “What do you expect?”
If we were the only ones here, all I would expect of you would be to tell me how you really feel. Charity tried to catch his gaze, and transfer her underlying message. “Reece, I expect you to calm down and let me help you out. Okay?”
Reece rolled his eyes and put on his sarcastic tone that he was all too fond of. “Alright then, what do you suggest we do?”
Charity looked over into the crowd and saw the principal wading through. She gestured to the crowd, signaling for Reece to follow her. She headed off to catch up with the principal, if anything; she could help them get everything sorted out.
Dakota hesitated as she reached for Reece. She had to tell him; but as far as she knew, Reece would just bat her off like a fly and wouldn’t believe her. Summoning her will, she set her finger down on his shoulder. To her surprise, he whirled around almost immediately. She stepped back slightly. The hard expression on his face softened when realized it was just her. “Oh… hey Dakota.”
She took a deep breath, and looked around; she hoped no one would hear her. “I know who did it.”
Reece jerked around to face her once more. “What did you-…?”
She opened her mouth to speak, but an enormous pain struck her from the back. All of her muscles stiffened, and she fell to the floor. The last thing she saw was the shocked look frozen on Reece McCauley’s face. I didn’t get to tell him…
