This post has been inspired by the Daily Post Weekly Writing Challenge. This week’s challenge is to shift perspectives in your narrative and use a POV you don’t usually use.  Well, I cheated! I used the first person again.  BUT, it is the first person, in three perspectives on the same scenario *wink*.  Hope you enjoy it!

A) Perspective of someone who loves skiing:

The Swiss white peaks

The cable car edged on, painfully slow.  The sight of the white slopes beneath me was making my legs itch.  I needed to get down there now, before the tourist hordes could catch up.  The slopes looked so beckoning from up there, all alone.  The snow smooth and untouched like a white, silk sheet on a soft bed.

The cable car finally lowered enough for me to touch my legs to the ground.  I set up and sped off before the car clicked into place.  The cool breeze whooshed against my face touching my hair, letting it flow behind me.  I felt like Moses parting the sea as my skis cut through the snow while I slid down the virgin slope.  My hips swayed rhythmically to avoid the little white capped trees as I rushed down with unimaginable speed, my arms prodding me on.  I kept thinking of a race car driving next to me, competing, but I was always a step ahead.

Too soon the slope levelled and I skidded to an elegant halt.  I looked back and saw the swerving path that I had just sculpted from the snow.  Just then a snowflake fell on my nose. Then another.  Perfect! By the time I got up there again, the path would be covered and I could do it all over again.

B)     Perspective of someone who hates it:

Bird’s eye view

The cable car rushed on to the top.  I looked down but had to close my eyes tightly.  The sight of that wide vastness was making my stomach turn and the sun reflecting from the white surface was making my eyes water.

There was no one else below.  Was I really the first one up here today?  James never said I would be completely by myself!

The cable car shook and a loud click came from the wires.  I looked at the slope stretching beneath me.  It was so high, so menacingly smooth.  Little trees, half hidden under the snow lay in waiting in all directions, ready to trip me and crash me to my death.

A horn started honking on top of my head and I fumbled with the skis to get off the cable car before it took me back down again; tempting as that might be.  I pulled myself up and got ready to dig the poles inside the unsteady snow.  But my feet had a mind of their own and before I knew it I was on my way down the slope heading straight for a tree.  I manoeuvred clumsily out of the way, just in time, only to find another tree facing me.  My heart was in my mouth.  My palms were sweating; despite the unrelenting freezing wind beating on my face.  I managed to avoid all the trees and most of the bumps.  A terrifying thought that an avalanche was chasing me down the slope kept berating me at the back of my head and I plodded the snow feverishly with my poles, anxious to get down to level ground but too scared to look back.

Finally I arrived, all in one piece. I stumbled to a halt were James was waiting for me.  I forced a cheerful smile when our eyes met.  “There,” I said breathless. “I did it.  Now hand over my wins!”

C)     My own personal perspective:

I looked up and admired the beauty of the white capped slopes.  Then I looked at the skiers – crazy people! – flirting with death and imminent injury.

“Tsk,” I said, shook my head and returned to my hot chocolate.

That’s not me in the picture!