Writer's Craft

I wanted to share a Writer's Craft assignment I did today in class! It was an exercise we did in preparation for writing our short stories.

His point of view:

His fingertips glazed over the Hershey’s bars and the jumbo Kit-Kats. He listened to the cold shiny packaging make a crinkling noise as he wrapped the palm of his brown hand around a Reese’s peanut butter cup. He could feel a pair of eyes watching him as he cautiously removed the candy from its shelf. His arm lowered, and he continued through the candy aisle. His arm lay awkwardly by his side. He held it out a little bit, so as to make it easier to see the bright orange candy bar in his hand. Moments later he was around the bend. It was safe now. He could reach into his worn backpack for the change and head up to the cash register. The change was buried deep. He new he needed to use both hands to pull the bag around to the front of his body in one swift motion, unzip it, and grab his money. He quietly slid the bar into his left shorts pocket, then reached his left arm around to his backpack strap. Suddenly, a white hand clasped his thick wrist, then the other. He jumped, not expected the contact.

“Sir, I know what you’re doing here.”

“Excuse me, ma’am, but I was just trying to grab my money—“
“No excuses necessary. I saw you slip that candy in that pocket there! Gimme that back now and whatever else you’ve got in there.”

He tried to keep his calm. “Ma’am, I understand you thought I was stealing, but I just wanted to get my money right here, see?” He reached into his bag and pulled out a crumpled dollar bill.

“I will not accept illegally taken money in this store! Now you can give me the bar back and get the hell out, or I can call the cops and have you arrested! Your choice!”

He heard the anger in her voice, saw the blood bubbling up into her milky face, the veins popping in her neck making her look like some sort of tortured animal. All around them, people were staring.

Her point of view:

She peered out over the counter at him. He was tall and lanky. She could see his big black fingers sliding over her perfectly organized shelves of newly-stocked candy. What in the hell else had he taken? She could only imagine the money her suffering shop would lose over the stolen items. She couldn’t take the suspense any more; she knew she needed to catch him in the act. Other customers strolled through the aisles, reading labels on things and putting them in little red baskets. He didn’t have a basket. As if her prayers had been answered, she saw him pull a bar down from the shelf and then suspiciously round the corner out of her sight. She tiptoed up behind him just in time to see him slip the bar right into his old pocket. What a horribly stupid man, she thought as she ran up and grabbed his dark arms, stopping him from moving.

“Sir, I know what you’re doing here,” she was scared, but she didn’t let her voice falter.

“Excuse me, ma’am, but I was just trying to grab my money—“ She wouldn’t let him babble on. 

“No excuses necessary. I saw you slip that candy in that pocket there! Gimme that back now and whatever else you’ve got in there.” Holding out her hand impatiently, she waited for him to give her back the precious bar.

“Ma’am, I understand you thought I was stealing, but I just wanted to get my money right here, see?” He reached into his bag and pulled out a crumpled dollar bill. 

She was horrified at his response. How dare he try to lie straight to her face?! She felt heat bubble up inside her, and she thought she might explode. “I will not accept illegally taken money in this store! Now you can give me the bar back and get the hell out, or I can call the cops and have you arrested! Your choice!” She knew she had made a scene, and she hoped others would come to her rescue and help her get rid of this black man.

Thanks for reading, all!