The neighbourhood has seen better days, but Mrs. Pauley has lived there since before anyone can remember. She raised a family of six boys, who’ve all grown up and moved away. Since Mr. Pauley died three months ago, she’d had no income. She’s fallen behind in the rent. The landlord, accompanied by the police, have come to evict Mrs. Pauley from the house she’s lived in for forty years.
Today’s prompt: write this story in first person, told by the twelve-year-old sitting on the stoop across the street.
Today’s twist: For those of you who want an extra challenge, think about more than simply writing in first-person point of view — build this twelve-year-old as a character. Reveal at least one personality quirk, for example, either through spoken dialogue or inner monologue.
I sat on the curb, watching Mrs. Pauley, stand silently outside her house as the police men and her landlord were evicting her out of her house. She looked grey today. I remember the first time I met her I told her she was yellow.
She laughed, her hearty laugh, and asked me, “what do you mean yellow , little boy?”. I told her I like describing everyone with colors. Yellow is a happy color and so are you. Mr. Paul is Red. He is always angry. She laughed and said, “Oh dear, don’t judge a book by its cover. He is a gentle man, only he doesn’t like to show it.” She hasn’t looked yellow after Mr. Paul’s death, two years back. She loved him a lot.
I am sad that she is leaving. I don’t know where she will go now. Dad said she has to go because she doesn’t have money to pay the rent. I will miss her, her lasagna and the stories of her childhood. I cannot imagine anyone else living in that house, it belongs to Mrs. Paul. I wish there was any way I could help her. I should probably go stand by her, she looks lonely, and all those men look very black.