There was a knock at the door ...

Our prompt for this week is brought to you by more musings of my crazy mind.  I do edit as I write, to some extent, and one thing that usually raises a red flag is passive voice.  It's usually a quick fix to rewrite and make the sentence more active, but this time, I hesitated.

The sentence:  There was a knock at the door.  (passive)

Possible rewrites:  Someone knocked on the door.  (active)
                               I heard a knock at the door.  (active)
                               We jumped at the sound of a knock at the door. (active)

The little voice in my head argued that there was a different mood, a different tone, to the first sentence, and it got lost when I changed it to something else.  It seems to me that "There was a knock at the door." implies you are inside (whatever it is that has a door), and you don't know who or what is outside. 

The sentence "Someone knocked on the door." gives me the feel that the narrator is standing outside the door in a group large enough that when someone knocks, it doesn't really matter who did it, just that it happened.  It seems distinctly different to me.

I could go on, but I think you get the idea.  My conclusion:  You have to know the rules of writing in order to be able to break them appropriately at the right time to make a point.  I'm reminded of Tahere Mafi's SHATTER ME, which I think was pure genius.  (Wrote about that here.)

As to whether I was right or wrong to leave the sentence in passive voice, only time will tell.  In the meantime, your prompt for the week:  There was a knock at the door.

Enjoy!

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My response:

Just as I reached for the doorknob, someone knocked.  (SEE!!!  Sometimes you just have to write what FEELS right!  It didn't work here, so I had to fix it.  Sorry.  End rant.)

I peered through the peep-hole.  All I could see was the top of a head of blond hair and a pile of black duffle bags.  What kind of door-to-door missionary carries luggage?  I hesitated with my hand above the handle.  Usually, I would just wait for them to go away, but I needed to get to work early today, and there was only one sensible way out of the apartment.  Why should I let someone trap me in?  I shouldered my bag and opened the door.

She only came up to my shoulder, and she tossed her hair back as she looked up at me.  Her blue eyes were red and swollen, her skin splotchy.  She blinked up at me, then dropped her eyes back to the floor.  "Hallelujah!  You have carpet!"

I raised my eyebrows.  "Excuse me?"

She plastered a too-wide grin across her face and reached out a hand.  "I'm offering free carpet cleaning today - just one room - while I do a demonstration."

I shook my head.  "I don't have time, and if I'd wanted clean carpet, I wouldn't have rented a cut-rate apartment.  You're in the wrong part of town."

She turned her head back up to me, the fake grin and all her bravado falling away.  Her eyes filled with tears that fell onto her cheeks.  "I know.  I know, I know, I just have to ..."  She wiped at her cheeks with her sweater.  "I just need the money, and this is where they sent me, and ..."  She threw her head back and sighed, then choked back a sob.  "And I could almost handle this dumb job, if it wasn't for ..."  Choking wasn't working for her anymore.  Now she was sobbing, her voice incoherent as she fought a wave of tears and mucus.

I stood in the doorway trying to decide if it would be horrible of me to close the door and sneak past her.  She could be part of an elaborate scheme to rob my apartment, I reasoned.  She kept sobbing.  I threw up my hands.  "Okay, okay.  Here, come in.  Sit down."  She didn't even look at me as I guided her to my couch.  She was lucky I was a normal guy and not an ax murderer.  She just sat on my couch and cried. 

When she slowed down, I asked, "Is there anyone I can call?  To come get you, I mean?  I don't think you're in a state to be working right now."  She pulled out her phone, flicked through her contacts, pressed the call button and handed it to me.

"Courtney?  Are you okay?  I've been worried!"  Another girl answered.

"Um ... Courtney is here.  She needs someone to come get her." I said.

"Where is here?"  The voice was guarded and demanding.  "Who are you?"

"Look," I said. "She just showed up at my front door trying to clean my carpets and collapsed on my couch in tears.  I thought she should call someone to get her."

She was considerably nicer as I gave her directions to come pick up her friend.  I was pacing the front balcony and checking my watch, a little put out that I would now be late for work, when Courtney's friend showed up.  She had jeans and worn cowboy boots, a faded UNO sweatshirt, and a thick brown braid.  Just a normal girl, but the way she skipped up the stairs and met my eyes made me feel like she was different from every other girl I'd known.

"Is Courtney in there?" she asked.  A mere formality, more like assuming permission to walk into my apartment.  She took one look at Courtney and sighed.  "Oh, girl, you can't go breaking down like this every time a guy dumps you!  You've got to snap out of it!"  She threw me an apologetic frown.  "Or at least, break down at home, where we have ice cream and Netflix!" 

With a mix of scolding and persuasion, the friend rounded Courtney up, picked up the bags, and made their way out of my apartment.  As they reached the stairs, I realized I still had Courtney's phone in my hands.  I held it up and called out, but as they turned back, I stashed the phone behind my back.  "Take care."  Courtney spared me a weak smile before breaking into sobs again.  Her friend gave me a quick wave, and they disappeared down the stairs.

I pulled out the phone and flipped through the recent calls.  Annette.  Annette with the brown braid, the UNO sweatshirt, and the frank manner.  I'd have to call her when I got off work to let her know I had Courtney's phone, and we'd have to meet so I could give it back.  I wondered if she liked Indian cuisine. 

New Purse

Our prompt for this week comes straight out of my own life:

Prompt:  She looked down and saw a black spider crawling across her new purse.

Enjoy!

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My response:

The whole lobby area smelled of rubber, grease, and compressed air.  The floor shuddered at the sound of power tools reving on the other side of the service doors.  She put down her book and pulled her phone from the outside pocket of her new purse, checking the time.  She'd told her boss she needed two hours, and when she came in, they said she'd be done in an hour, fifteen minutes.  It had been forty-five minutes.  She had a headache.

She'd been fine when she walked in.  She might have been able to withstand the fumes and noise, but she wasn't the only one in the waiting room.  The girl sitting next to her, in jeans and a worn sweatshirt, pulled out her phone and started chattering in a high octave.  Twelve chairs in the room, and the girl chose the one right next to her.  Still, if not for the volume of her conversation, it wouldn't have been so bad.

Then the older man showed up.  He took the chair on her other side.  She couldn't help but look up, and he smiled widely.  "Well hello!  We know each other, don't we?"

She furrowed her brow as she studied his face.  Solid.  Strong bones.  Brilliant blue eyes, for an old man.  Shiny bald scalp.  She pressed her lips together and shook her head.  "Sorry."

She dropped her eyes back to her lap, ready to pick up her book, and she saw it.  A black spider crawling off her leg and onto her new purse.  A curse slipped from her lips, and she swatted.  Then she grimaced.  Her aim had been spot on, and the spider was dead.  Her blue and white purse, however, was forever tainted.

She leapt from her chair towards the napkins by the free coffee and swiped furiously at the stain.  Finally, she gave up.  Checked her watch. 

She wondered how well her care would drive without tires.

... then the floor gave way ...

This week's prompt is brought to you by the random wanderings of my mind.  I can't really say where it came from, or where I will take it from here, but here it is:

Prompt: ... then the floor gave way beneath her ...

Enjoy!

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My response:

(I'm getting a kind of Alice through the looking glass vibe from this ... we'll see where it goes.)

Kelly knew she should go back downstairs as soon a she saw the gaps in the roof.  There were a few houses like this.  Eighteen years of rain and mold made them death traps.  Rule number one: never put yourself in danger. 

Kelly couldn't help herself.  She'd seen the old house peeking out through the trees when she'd crested the hill.  It was an old Victorian with rounded turrets at both front corners, and it looked just like the doll house she'd had until she was ten and Steven threw it out the window because she'd eaten the last piece of zucchini bread before he could get to it.

The insides had been devastated, but here and there Kelly caught clues of how it looked in its glory days.  There were areas of deep burgundy paint on the wall of the dining room and rosewood furniture, even a crystal vase, complete with dried flowers.  Kelly knew she shouldn't, but each room called to her, and she worked her way slowly through the house.  The curving stairway to the second story was still intact, but the hallway down the second level looked sketchy.  Looking at the rotted floorboards, Kelly almost turned back.  Then she spotted something in the murky mirror that hung crooked on a door.  A porcelain doll. 

Kelly sucked in a breath and eased into the hallway, taking care to step as near the wall as she could.  That trick got her as far as the doorway, where she could peer into the room.  Against the far wall, another wood and glass case sat undisturbed.  There wasn't just one doll, there were dozens.  Large dolls, tiny ones, babies, women, girls, each one with a beautiful dress, shining glass eyes, and ringlet hair.  Kelly couldn't help herself.  According to the rules, anything you scavenged belonged to you.  She'd never wanted anything like she wanted one of those dolls.

Between the doorway and the window case stood a large, four poster bed.  Annie eased forward on her toes.  Surely if the floor still held the massive bed, it would support her own added weight.  She wasn't quite fourteen, and she knew she was small for her age.  Kelly eased forward.  One foot, then the next.  She scanned the case as she moved, wanting to end up on the right side for opening it.  A small, metal bracket gave away the opening, and Kelly's hand reached out towards it.  Five steps.  Six.  Seven.  Kelly's fingers brushed the bracket ... and then the floor gave way beneath her.

(Okay, well never mind about the looking glass thing.  Apparently I'm so caught up in the post-apocalyptic world right now that I can't seem to pull myself out of it.  But, I'm almost done with my first draft of my latest work in progress ... in fact I'll go put the last chapter on it right now.  :-)