Today’s writing challenge response comes from Arush Sharma.
Arush took the challenge from our November 2018 Ink Splat. The challenge said:
Sometimes I will write an existing scene from the point of view of another character. Because the Smith School books are in first person, from Abby’s point of view, it’s fun to see what things will look like through the eyes of Izumi or Charlotte or Toby. I haven’t done Mrs. Smith herself yet, but soon!
For your writing prompt, take a scene from one of your favorite stories (one you’ve written or one someone else has written) and retell that scene from the point of view of another character.
From the book, Hound of the Baskervilles by Arthur Conan Doyle
Scene: Death of the hound
written in the point of view of Sherlock Holmes (originally in John Watson’s view)
Sir Henry Baskerville was supposed to be on his way now, heading out in the moor from the Stapletons’ house. I looked at many possibilities to find a place to hide at. My gaze narrowed at a large boulder overlooking the entire moor. “Over here. Now, we shall wait in the excitement of Sir Henry coming back from his dinner at the moor. Then, soon, the hound shall come, lured by the essence of a Baskerville. Then, we will see our case.” We all lay behind the boulder, and my eyes fixated on the moor, waiting.
After about half an hour, there was no sign of the baronet. “I gave him clear instructions to go to Baskerville Hall through the moor. If he has failed me, I fear that we may never solve the mystery of the Hound of the Baskervilles.” I felt deeply angered about this. Then, Watson pointed out, “Look, a vague figure of a man!”
My eyes turned toward where Watson had pointed. There was an outline of a man standing in the moor. Then he started walking. Recognizing the clothes and built of the man, my smile returned. “Excellent job, Watson! It does turn out that the man followed my instructions.” After he came closer, we all knew that Sir Henry Baskerville was on his way home.
We all readied our guns and waited for the hound to come. I looked all around the moor, from the massive mire on the other side, to the faraway gates of the manor which housed generations of the Baskerville family. The others were too busy having the fear of the hound in their minds. For me, this was the largest and most complex case brought to me at Baker Street. It was Christmas for me!
Then, I saw a blur near the Grimpen Mire. I started to smile, for any constable in a dummy police group could guess what was about to come in the moor. Lestrade looked at where the blur was. “It’s-it’s the hound, is it not?” Watson confirmed his guess. “Yes, yes it is.” They both trembled, but my body was jittering with excitement. The hound was here.
We heard a soft growl in the distance, and then a loud baying. Sir Henry was looking back the sound. This added more fear to him, and he started to break in a small run, legs trembling. We all pulled out our guns, for we saw an outline of a large dog. “Surely, it can’t be this big!” Watson said. I was very excited when the hound was bolting here, but after it got into sight, I realized why Sir Charles, Henry’s uncle, was frightened to death.
For a hound, it was extremely large and suffered with some sort of obesity. It was the size of a shire heavy horse, with long leaping legs. But that wasn’t what made the case interesting. Its eyes were coals of flame with no pupils, and its face was large and glowing. It was a devil from the bowels of hell, and it had come to feed on a Baskerville.
Everyone was frozen and staring aghast, for the abnormal conditions which the hound was in. I looked at them and shouted, “What are you waiting for? Fire!” We pulled out our revolvers and fired at the monster. It hit its back, and roared in annoyance. Sir Henry jumped to the ground and covered his head. I looked back at the hound. “Oh, it appears to have a strong hide! Well, let’s go attack him with this.” I pulled out a shotgun from my coat and ran toward the hound. Only way to bring down the beast. Lestrade and Watson slowly made their way towards me in spite of the danger.
I readied the shotgun at the hound. The hound forgot all about my companions and I and displayed some sense of his job by lunging towards Sir Henry. Watson screamed,”No! Shoot the beast!”
I pulled the trigger. The sound of the multiple bullets hurling towards the hound startled it and made my shot a complete success. A grin formed on my face and chuckled,”Don’t worry, Watson! I am not so careless as you think, the Baskervilles are safe.”
End of Scene: Death of the Hound