Austin and I recently started a
30-day creative writing challenge. We're going to take much longer than 30 days in the process, but I thought you might be interested in what I have written. I won't post everything that I do, just the ones that I liked. I'd love to get some feedback from you on what you think of what I've written!
This particular story is from day 2, "write a fan fiction." I've always been a fan of Anne of Green Gables and I've always felt that poor Dora (from Anne of Avonlea) was never given the benefit of the doubt. In the series, she's portrayed as a perfectly behaved but incredibly boring girl. This is my attempt to explain a little bit about why she was the way she was.
Dora of Green Gables
Davy gleefully shaped another mud pie with the mud from the pig pen. Dora could tell that he was enjoying it, and wished she could go and play, too, but Marilla would be upset if she got her dress dirty. “Boys get to have all the fun!” she thought. Her twin brother Davy always got away with all of his shenanigans, no matter how bad he’d been. Any time Dora did something that was out of line with the adults’ code of conduct, she got a good talking-to, which cowed her for at least the next month—whereas Davy could care less about sermons and just went right back to whatever he was doing before the lecture. Sometimes he’d try to stop, but it would never last longer than a day or two. Dora sighed. That was probably why Davy got away with things and she didn’t—Davy just didn’t think the consequences were all that bad.
“Dora! Come help me make pies!”
Oh, it was tempting! Mud pies were just the thing for a slow Sunday afternoon. But if she did—no. She wouldn’t even consider it.
“No, Davy, I’ll get my dress dirty. I can’t.”
“Aw, come on! They’re bully pies! You can make them look like whatever you want. Look! This one’s an apple pie.”
Dora came closer, and saw that Davy had made one of his mud pies to look like the top of an apple pie, with criss-cross lines to look like the interwoven dough. Dora thought if she tried, she’d be able to make one just as good, and maybe even better. An idea popped into her head of how she could ripple the edges to make it look more like a real pie.
“No, Davy! I can’t! Marilla will be mad if I ruin my dress!”
“Marilla shmarilla!” However, Davy knew he’d lost the argument here. Dora was such a wuss whenever she thought she might get in trouble. He decided to change tactics from persuasion to revenge—how dare she be more afraid of Marilla than of Davy himself?—and said, “Fine! If you’re so high and mighty, try to keep your dress clean while walking the pigpen fence!”
Dora’s eyes widened. “I couldn’t do that!”
“Ha! Fraidy-cat! Fraidy-cat! You’re so scared of a little mud. What if I came and wiped my hands on your dress? Would you be afraid then?” Davy started to approach Dora, with his muddy hands outstretched.
Dora backed away a little, and said, “I’m not a fraidy-cat! I just don’t want to walk the fence.”
“Yeah? Well why don’t you want to walk the fence?”
“I just don’t want to.”
“Fraidy-cat!”
“Fine! I’m not afraid to walk the fence!” and Dora proceeded to mount the fence.
Once she was on top, Dora immediately regretted her decision. Davy always convinced her to do imprudent things. “Well, here goes nothing,” she thought, and gingerly put one foot in front of the other on the fence rail. Dora carefully raised her arms for balance, and took another step. So far so good. Her heart was pounding. What if she fell? The ground was pretty close, but if she landed on the wrong body part, it could really hurt! Dora took a few more steps. Maybe she could do this after all!
Just as Dora was gaining confidence, Davy yelled, “Woo-yeah, go Dora!” which surprised Dora so much that she jumped—not a lot, but just enough to move her enough off-center that she started to fall. Dora flailed her arms, frantically trying to re-gain her balance, but the damage was done. Dora’s feet slipped off the slender rail and suddenly she was covered in mud. She was conscious of Davy’s laughter, but she couldn’t join him. Davy had conned her into his mischief again. Everybody would be so disappointed in her. She didn’t know how she could bear it!
All day Dora had worked hard all day to keep herself presentable. She never spoke without being spoken to first, sat still during church, ate the food put in front of her, said please and thank you, and worked especially hard to keep her dress and face clean. Davy didn’t even try. She was afraid that if she didn’t behave well to cancel out Davy’s mischief, the two would have to change homes again. It was only their first week at Green Gables, and she was anxious to make a good impression, and now Davy had ruined everything. Dora burst into tears.
Davy stopped laughing and looked at her strangely. “Don’t cry, Dora. That was a bully fall. You should have seen yourself—with your arms waving around and the look on your face—oh, man, I couldn’t help it! You just looked so darn funny!”
The pig chose that moment to run over Dora’s dress, and she sobbed all the harder.
Between sobs, Dora managed to choke out that nothing could make up for her dress being ruined in the mud and for how mad Marilla would be when she saw Dora’s dress.
“A little bit of mud can’t hurt—I’ll rinse you off under the pump, and it’ll make you as good as new. Don’t worry, I do it all the time.”
Dora looked at him doubtfully, but figured that the water might wash off some of the mud. She followed him to the pump and meekly waited for her shower. Davy energetically worked the pump, and Dora was suddenly soaked by a gush of ice-cold water. Some of the mud came off, but not much. Davy kept working the pump, but to no avail. Finally, Dora gave up and told him to stop. She looked at her dress again and realized that her sash and shoes were now spoiled by the water. She started crying again. Would nothing go right for her?
Davy suggested that the dress would be okay if she just stood in the sun and let it dry, but she was too disappointed in him to follow his advice any more today. Dora walked to the house and into the dining room, where Marilla, Anne, and all of the guests from the Aid society were having tea. Could there have been a more humiliating time to fall in the mud? Marilla looked shocked. So did Anne—Anne, who Dora already looked up to and from whom she yearned approval. The members of the Aid society looked like they couldn’t wait for her to leave so they could gossip about her and what had happened.
Dora was so ashamed that they all had to see her like this, but Marilla was kind and took her up to the bedroom for clean clothes. After hearing Dora’s explanation, Marilla didn’t have the heart to discipline the poor child, and tea with the Aid society went on downstairs without them.
· · · · · ·
That night, Dora laid in bed, thinking about the day. Davy had been punished, but Dora didn’t want punishment for Davy. Dora wanted to be able to stand up to him on her own, without being intimidated by his taunts. A plan started to hatch in her mind. It would take a long time—maybe even years—but Dora was determined that one day, she would have the courage to stand up for herself whenever she wanted to.
The End
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I wrote a sequel! Check it out
here.
