Who Wrote It #2: Reveal

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Who Wrote It Challenge #2

Below are our responses to a fifteen minute writing prompt: 

The old house, with its wildly overgrown garden, was silent, secretive.

Can you match the writing sample to the author?

Katie Drake bio

Solange Hommel bio 

J. Rae Moore bio

Lan H. Lee bio

A)

 The old house, with its wildly overgrown garden, was silent, secretive. Annalise 

remembered when her mother had carefully tended the garden. The trellises, now broken 

and dangling, had once dripped with glorious yellow roses. She pictured the fresh coat of 

crisp, white paint that her father had painstakingly applied over the course of a summer, 

using the limited time available each evening between bank closing and nightfall. Over the 

years, the dust and smog had left its mark, turning the siding a dingy gray. She could 

remember the days when Hart Manor regularly appeared on the covers of gardening and 

housekeeping magazines; when locals walked their out-of-town visitors past the matching 

white picket fence with vicarious pride; when her family represented all that was good and 

strong and right in the community. Annalise stood on the cracked sidewalk leading to the 

sagging front door and remembered the old house as the shining beacon it had been 

before the secrets took over.

B) 

          "I bet you five seeds he will only go 25 feet," Eddie says to me, his scavenging partner.
          "You are on, my friend," I reply.

          We both watch as this little boy of about eight takes a tentative step into the overgrown garden. One step, two steps and he stops. The patio of the old house creaks as if on cue, and the little boy turns and runs away.

          "Pay up Eddie, you owe me five seeds," I say as I wait for him to gather the seeds from the sunflower plant.

          "Yeah, yeah, I'm getting them." He hops all the way up to the top of the stem and begrudgingly throws down each seed, one by one.

          "Hey. Watch it." I dodge the seeds being thrown at me.

          "Sorry," Eddie yells down as he peeks his head over the tip of a yellow petal. But, I don't think he's sorry as I hear laughter.

          I wait for him to hop down to help me put the seeds into the cart. My little red wings are too small to carry the seeds.

          "What do you say we go over to Tully's and throw back some nectar when we're done," he say's when he finally makes it down.

          "Yeah, that's sounds great, the quicker we are done here, the sooner we can meet up with the other guys," I say as I nudge a seed his way.

          "Ah, I see what you are doing, and I get it. The first one's on you." Being a grasshopper, he makes quick of the work and we are on our way to the drop off shoot.

         On the way to there as I ignore Eddie's ever constant buzzing, I look around the overgrown garden that I call my home.

C)

Twice I'd been to the town my mother grew up in. I can still picture the endless wheat fields, and of course, my great grandfather Rudy's house. White, with a wrap-around porch and oak trees out front. Even then I new it was a bit shabby, maintained but not cared for.

One Easter I wore a frilly dress with patent leather shoes. All the cousins hunted for eggs and I got my first Easter basket. For Rudy's ninety-fifth birthday there was a parade. I was seven and thought the celebration was just for him. I didn't know it was for Oktoberfest. All the grand kids wore matching yellow outfits made by an aunt. I still have the little matching purse. We piled in the car with Rudy. I remember it was a convertible. I don't remember the actual drive. 

I can picture the table in the kitchen and mother helping make the fresh sausage. I would climb the dark, creaky stairs to the second floor and play with my mother's old barbies. The ones stored there from when she was a little girl. There were only two.

       The back yard was like a strange forest; part junk yard for old tractor and irrigation supplies, and part retreat from too many people. Sometimes there was an odd man out there. He never spoke to me and the others rarely spoke to him. But he belonged there. Once I saw him coating the picket fence with white paint. He also kept an eye on a bird feeder and would sit and watch the birds for hours while he polished little stones with a scrap of felt. I would see him slip through a small door at the back of the house that led to what I thought was the cellar. I was not allowed in. I never saw anyone follow him. They never even told me his name.

       They should have. He was my grandfather, my mother's father, son to Rudy. Now they are all gone and I've come back to the old house. The garden has run wild, covering the rusted metal of the farm equipment. The old picket fence is no longer white, but grey and leaning. The birds are gone. I found the polished rocks lined up from the bird feeder to the little cellar door.

D)

                    16 August 2016

To the Dark Forest Code Compliance Office,

I am sending this letter in reference to the numerous notices and fees I have received from your office about the overgrown condition of my yard.

Firstly, let me remind you of the past accolades my yard and home have earned.

·         The Yummiest Yard Award presented in May 2013, 2014, and 2015 by the Little Gnomes Society.

·         The Delectable Décor Honor presented in August 2013 and April 2015 by The Munchkin League of Fairytale Land

·         The Stripes are Scrumptious Medal presented in June 2013, 2014, and March 2016 by The Fairies for Equality Foundation.

·         The Editable Construction Certificate presented for the year of 2014 by King Phillip –himself!     

As you can see, I am not in the habit of letting my property fall into ruin. Maintaining a gingerbread house is a full time investment. However, because of the debilitating injuries I suffered in an unfortunate incident earlier this year, I’ve had no choice but to fall behind on the maintenance of my estate.

Surely, you read about the incident in the Princess Daily Press. Although the article was extremely one-sided, making me out to be some kind of monster, I’m sure you’ll be reassured once you hear my side of it.

It was in early May when I caught two children nibbling away at the siding on my house. Of course, I felt sorry for the poor dears. They were obviously very hungry, so I invited them inside. If only I knew what was to come.

Once inside my home, the boy, Hansel, went into a frenzy, eating and licking everything in sight. I thought the boy foolish with hunger so I placed him in an enclosure to save my home. I had his sister, Gretel, help me whip together a batch of my famous chocolate chip butter cookies. Sure, the children ate the cookies with no complaint, but when I insisted Gretel help tidy up the preparation mess, she threw a huge temper tantrum. I explained the concept of cleaning up after oneself but there was no calming the child. – I blame the parents –

Seeing I would get no help from the children, I went about cleaning the oven myself. It wasn’t until I felt the firm push that I realized my mistake. Those horrible, ungrateful, evil children had pushed me in and closed the door. Consequently, I suffered major injuries. I spent weeks in the hospital and am still in the process of returning to full health. Thus, all of this has hindered me from keeping up my home.

I should hope you understand. I am asking for the full dismissal of the accumulated warnings and fees your code compliance officer has nailed to my front door. And, compensation for the damage said officer has caused to my door with said nails. Thank you.

Awaiting Action,

The Witch in the Gingerbread House on Canetree Lane

P.S. I was sorry to hear of Hansel and Gretel’s recent disappearances in the paper. I’m sure they’ll turn up.

P.P.S. Please extend an invitation to Code Compliance Officer, Miss Priss. I invite her to come to my house for milk and cookies. She knows where I live.

_______

Thanks for reading! Please, take a second to introduce yourself in the comments below. Don't forget to make your guesses about the authorship of each sample. Even better: set a timer for 15 minutes and share what you've written! 

We'll let you know who wrote which sample next week. Good luck!

The Accident

Steve finally eased his way through the narrow entryway in the tree trunk to the nest he shared with Hilda. He had hoped that she'd be sleeping, as it was already late morning, but no such luck. He licked a paw and ran it quickly over his ears, but he knew he still looked a mess.

"And where have you been?" Hilda chittered. Lately, her voice had become sharp, like barbed wire hidden under fallen leaves. Her tail twitched in irritation.

"I don't want to talk about it."

Hilda twitched her tail some more and sucked on her front teeth. For a moment, Steve thought she was going to let it go, let him get some much needed sleep, but no. That would have been too easy.

"Sheila said that Tracy said that Millie saw you in the dog yard again." Hilda sat back on her haunches and stared at him from the other side of the nest. Sunlight streaming in through the entrance glittered off her black eyes.

Steve sighed. Knowing there was nothing he could say that wouldn't set Hilda off on a lengthy rant, he chose to say nothing. Instead he curled himself into a ball in the darkest corner of the nest, wrapping his large tail up and around his head. With another deep sigh, the tension in his muscles released slightly and he sank deeper into the cotton batting they'd collected for their bedding. He drifted off to sleep to the sound of Hilda shuffling acorns around noisily, mumbling to herself about how right her mother had been.

Hilda was gone when Steven woke up several hours later. Steve stretched his legs in all directions as far as they would go, toes spreading wide. Then, scratching his belly absently with one paw, he rolled over. He must have been sleeping on his tail funny because it filled with pins and needles as he sat up. From previous experience, Steve knew he'd have trouble with his balance until it felt completely normal again.

He had just lifted an acorn off the pile in the corner when Hilda swooped through the entrance. She deposited two more acorns on the floor of the nest and grabbed the one out of his hands.

"Absolutely not, Steve. Those are for later."

"C'mon, Hilda. I'm starving. I'll bring you two more to replace it."

"That's what you always say."

"I swear." Steve held his paws up earnestly and flicked his tail charmingly. Hilda could never resist his tail flicks.

Hilda looked at him through the deepening shadows. She held the acorn just out of reach. "Tell me what happened this morning."

Steve's tail drooped. "I told you, I don't want--"

"I guess you can go forage for yourself," Hilda said, placing the acorn on top of others and positioning herself in front of the pile.

"Fine." Steve held out his paws. "I'll tell you. Give me the acorn." Hilda handed it to him and he turned it over and over in his paws as he thought. For once in her life, Hilda sat still, waiting. Finally, he said, "It's that damn dog toy."

"Oh, Steve." He could hear the frustration in her voice.

"I know. I know." He bit into the acorn. Through a full mouth he added, "It's just not right. I see it sitting down there, all matted up and I just can't stand it."

"It's not real, Steve." Hilda rolled another acorn over to him as he finished the first.

"I know that," he snapped. Hilda sat up straighter and looked away, trying and failing to hide the injured look on her face. "Hilda. I'm sorry." She looked back at him. "It's just ... I'm not an idiot. I know it's a stupid toy for their stupid dogs to play with." He stopped, disliking the way his throat felt, tight with emotion.

Hilda stroked his tail slowly as he cried. After a while, she said, "I want to understand. I just ... I just don't."

"You can't. You didn't see him like that," Steve said.

"Eddie?"

"Yeah."

Hilda's glittery eyes softened. "Sometimes I wish I had. I wish I was out there on the road with you when it happened. Then maybe I'd be able to help you through this."

"No," Steve said. "I'm glad you weren't. I'm glad you don't understand." He took a shuddering breath. "Nobody should have to see something like that."

They sat together in silence, each remembering Eddie in their own way, until Hilda spoke, "So how can I help? What are you trying to do with that thing?"

Steve looked up in surprise. "Really?"

"Really."

"I thought maybe I could get it through the fence and send it down the embankment. If I'm lucky, it will roll all the way to the river. If not, we can put some leaves over it or stick it under a log. Anything so it isn't just laying there in plain sight all the time."

Hilda swept up some acorn crumbs with her tail and tossed them out through the entrance. "Okay, then," she said, "what are we waiting for?" She scampered through the hole and down the trunk.

Steve followed.

(Story inspired by this video, taken by me on Aug 18.)