POST CARDS FROM THE MUSE

The Television Set

By Nandy Ekle

Don’t tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass. 

–Anton Chechov

Betsy walked across the yard. When she came to the steps she went up and knocked on the door. After a couple of minutes, she turned the knob carefully.

OR

The silver disk of the moon hung in the dark sky giving off just enough light for Betsy to see the grass as she crossed the yard. Her foot ached after the fight with Ted, but she couldn’t take the chance of being caught if she stopped to rest. The toe of her good foot suddenly hit the first step toward the front door. Sucking in a silent breath she hobbled up onto the porch. The light from the moon played the old illusion game by making the front door suddenly appear fifty feet tall. She swallowed, raised her fist, rapped, then put her ear to the door listening for the sounds of someone coming to her rescue. After what felt like an hour, which was actually only two minutes, she put her hand on the door knob. The cuts on her fingers from knife burned as if rubbing alcohol had been poured directly on them. Slowly, her fingers closed around the knob and gently twisted.

Well, I did use a few adverbs. But I think the exercise was a good one. Which paragraph gave you the clearest picture?  Now, go try this.