The LiLa Write-Off

Laura had a brilliant idea to do a little exercise where we both had a one-line prompt about our favorite girl detective and then we each write a paragraph about the sentence. Only one Neither of us managed to stick to these rules. Shocker.

Anyways, we thought it would be fun to show you how different our writing styles actually are (this will be even funnier when you read the samples) and even better we'd let you guys decide which sample belongs to which Roecker.

So what do you say? You ready to play?

The prompt: Kate Lowry loses her pearls.

Sample #1:

I groped the velvet seats of the auditorium, using them as a guide, not daring to put my heels to the floor. I knew their click would give away my location. It felt as though my eyes were squeezed shut, but really it was the darkness—thick and suffocating. But that wasn’t the reason I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t breathe because he’d hear. As I moved down the row, I hunched my shoulders attempting to take up as little space as possible, to disappear.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he yelled. His words came from in front of me, forcing me to silently switch directions.

And that’s how it happened.

My long strand of pearls caught on an armrest or a chair number or a nail or a something and snapped. Pearls dropped to the tile like bombs, tearing through the silence giving me away one by one by one.

Sample #2:

I eyed my 10-speed warily. Obviously, I couldn’t ignore Seth’s cry for help, but I really just wished I had another way to get from point A to point B. Even worse, a brand new, shiny pink helmet hung off one of the handlebars with a sticky note stuck onto it. “Remember the deal. No helmet, no bike! We love you!” It was in my mom’s handwriting. Of course.

I grabbed the helmet and stuffed it on my head. Seth better appreciate the lengths I was willing to go to save his ass. I mean, it’s one thing to be a 15-year-old forced to publicly ride her bike. It’s quite another to have to do so in an adult sized Barbie helmet.

I sped out of my driveway, enjoying the feel of the wind on my face in spite of myself. Riding a bike might be dorky as hell, but it’s also sort of fun. My pearls bounced against my chest as I picked up speed, I swung a left under Farrow’s Arches and skidded to a halt in the garden. I leaned my bike against the frost bitten brick and my breath formed tiny little clouds around my face as I scanned the garden for Seth. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something felt…off.

I felt the warm breath on my neck and started to turn around, relieved that I’d found him.

“Seth?” His name died on my lips as a hand grabbed my pearls and started pulling. Hot panic flooded my body and my hands flew to my neck, clawing at the smooth white beads that dug into my skin. But my fingers kept slipping away, the vice-like grip of the pearls was too tight. My lungs burned and my nails scratched at the delicate skin of my neck even though I knew it was no use.

And then I heard the tiniest pop, and saw the tiny pearls scatter all over the bricks like snow. I fell to the ground and gulped the air greedily, my breath rasping in the quiet of the garden. My head snapped around, looking for my attacker, but the garden was empty.

There was nothing left for me to do except get on my hands and knees and pick up the pearls. One by one.

***

Hmm...one of us is certainly long winded, no? Leave us your best guess in the comments and stop back on Monday to see who wrote what and to read all about the inevitable fight that erupted afterwards.

Have a fab weekend everyone!