A recent assignment was to write a few paragraphs from first-person, and the same scene in third-person. Since my plan has been to alternate between Jonathan and Matthew in first-person, I wrote up three sections. Although the 2YN forum is limited to the participants, I figured I could share what I wrote here.
Third person:
The tips of stone terraces peeked over the treetops. Neither of the twins could see any more of the city—let alone its inhabitants—at this distance, but that only meant that no one could see them. "I think I'll take a look over," Matthew started, spreading out his wings and looking to his brother for permission. Jonathan crossed his arms. "Don't get caught." Answering with only a nod, Matthew flapped his wings a bit and lunged into the air. Taking a moment to catch his breath—flying wasn't the most fun when he hadn't had anything to eat lately—he pumped his wings harder and harder, ascending high enough any casual observer below could mistake him for a bird. Ignoring the increasing burn in his chest, he swept over the squiggles and squares of the main city until a wide, layered field of maize rippled below him. If he hadn't been the responsible one, he would have swooped down and ripped through the field, plucking whatever would come up and taking off again. But he couldn't get much that way, and he wasn't about to alert the locals Mayflies were around, or Jonathan wouldn't be able to come and get his share. Mouth watering, he swallowed and pitched away, wind whistling and shrieking past his ears as he soared back towards the forest. First person (Matthew): I haul myself onto a low branch, letting my throbbing feet dangle. Just over the next patch of trees, stone temple tops seem to poke out of the leaves. Finally. We haven't had food in so long we can barely fly. I still ought to give it a look-over, though. They could be expecting us—we may be far from the last city we robbed, but news travels fast—and if we walk up to an edge of town without food, we'll be chased out long before we can get to any food. Leaning back to see Jonathan climbing a bit higher into the tree, I start, "I think I'll take a look over." He stops, hooking his knees over a branch and flipping himself back to look at me. Crossing his arms, he just closes his eyes and says, "Don't get caught." With a nod, I stand, gripping a higher branch to keep my balance as I give my wings a few preliminary flaps. I throw myself back into the air with a grunt and slowly fly higher up, getting used to the exertion before picking up the pace. It's harder to breathe the higher I go, but the last thing I want to do is be spotted for what I am. If I look small enough, they ought to think I'm just a bird. Flying straight across now, I watch the pale, writhing roads and darker squares and lumps of buildings pass by beneath. My lungs are really burning by the time I see the right edge of town—an unmistakable farm, its rows of maize ducking and bobbing in the wind. I can smell my meal roasting already. Somehow as intently as I'm watching the maize, I don't realize it's getting bigger for a few moments. Although, really... no one seems to be around at the moment. Would it really hurt if I grabbed some now? No, no. I pull back up into the air, still circling. Ask those kind of questions, and a demon'll be after me in no time. I'll wait. I can't carry enough for the both of us, and if I act now, someone could figure it out before Jonathan can get here safely. Even if they don't suspect Mayflies, they'd at least post a watch—and if they find Jonathan like that, he'll get speared for sure. That's not going to happen on my watch. I finally turn away from the field, wind whistling and shrieking past my ears as I soar towards the forest. First person (Jonathan): I think I see a temple, but I'm not about to go flying to check. Not that I don't love flying—who wouldn't?—but because no one else loves me flying. Sometimes I think they're just jealous, but that's not it. It's more like... zealous. And while I've never heard of any angel telling people to hate Mayflies, it must be some implicit rule that people just really like to follow. Really, I love being cursed with wings. With flight. I just hate people who hate us for it. Unfortunately, that seems to be everyone but Mom. So instead of quickly revealing myself to anyone around who would either run screaming to the king or try to kill me then and there, I just use tree branches to get a little higher. There's not all that much climbing room, but the stone steps rise a bit with every branch. It's definitely a temple. Definitely a city, too, then. "I think I'll take a look over." Stopping, I hook my knees over a branch and lean back to look at Matthew. Despite stating his plan, he's still waiting for approval before going into action. I can't say I mind, most of the time. Caution is a good thing for any cursed person. I may have trouble with it from time to time, but that's why there are two of us. Me, to jump into things when immediate action is needed, and him, to dig me out of it if I mess up. Crossing my arms, I just say, "Don't get caught." He nods and, after readying his wings, takes off. He stalls a bit once he's in the air, and I can hear him panting over the rushes of wind from his wings. One of the reasons we have to steal food. If we hold out hoping someone will give it to us honestly, we just starve more. Get weaker. Stealing might be condemned, but so is murder. We're just trying to keep the others from committing that. Exhaling, I pull myself back onto the branch and watch Matthew climb into the sky. |
