Anne walks the ridgepole of Moody McPherson's kitchen at Josie's dare. In this version, Anne hits her head on her way down, rendering herself not killed, but unconscious. It's a blend of Megan Follow's canon and the books, with a liberal sprinkling of my own interpretations. The timeline doesn't quite follow either version as I've made Gilbert almost 17 and Anne a spunky 14 years old - an almost woman with some very childlike tendencies.

I own none of the characters, just a vivid imagination. All characters belong in the Anne of Green Gables world, which is trademarked by the late L.M. Montgomery.


"Anne, Anne? Wake up Anne! Anne, are you killed?" Diana cried.

Just moments earlier, Anne was on top of the McPherson roof, defying Josie and gravity as she walked along the roofline. Anne made it as far as the chimney and turned around with a triumphant toss of her head. Her confidence was short lived as her heel caught on the ridgepole, causing her to lose her balance. She fell backwards with a shriek and her classmates heard the thud before they rounded the corner of the house.

To her classmates standing around her, Anne Shirley looked like a forgotten ragdoll. Tossed outside the kitchen window at the McPherson's house, lying with one leg bent underneath her plain blue dress that now had smudges and a horrible tear up the side. Her red hair splayed out across the tangle of the Virginia Creeper that caught her during her tumble down the roof.

Gilbert was the first one to reach Anne. He kneeled beside her, half expecting her to slap him away as he lifted up her head and felt for cuts. When she failed to respond, he checked for a pulse.

The small party was quiet, watching as Gilbert held Anne's wrist while Diana sobbed beside her friend. Gilbert felt a pulse but he couldn't tell if it was Anne's or his own. He moved his hand in front of Anne's mouth to see if he could feel her breath.

When Josie Pye saw Gilbert lean over Anne, she knew Anne was dead. Josie, who had never suffered from much of any imagination, was seized by the vision of a future spent branded as Anne Shirley's killer. That future did not include any diamond sunbursts or marble halls, but a bleak asylum and being outcast from the very society she felt she had been born to rule. All because of her mean spirited ways towards Anne. "I didn't mean for - I didn't know she'd -. I'm so sorry, I'll never - Oh Diana!"

"This isn't about you, Josie." Diana cried. "This is the most tragical thing that has ever happened - Anne, oh, Anne!" She turned to her friend while Josie slowly backed away from the group.

With a scarlet "M" for murderess emblazoned on her soul, Josie ran away from the McPherson farm in hysterics. Jane and Ruby ran through the gate, past Prissy Andrews climbing into a buggy with a small satchel clasped firmly in her hands, and down past Mrs. Lynde's front porch as they tried to catch up with their oldest friend.

"She's not dead," Gilbert said quietly. He straightened up and leaned back on his heels while letting out a deep breath. His Anne-Girl would live. Live to fight another day. He stared at her pale face with it's dapple of freckles, thinking he had never seen such a more beautiful girl in the world. "Moody, go fetch the doctor. Tell him to go directly to Green Gables."

Moody nodded, "You can take her in our cart."

"I'm afraid that won't work," said Mr. McPherson from inside the kitchen window. "The buggy has disappeared. Moody, you run for the Doctor."

In Avonlea that night the news that spread like wildfire was not how Anne Shirley had fallen off the ridgepole of Moody McPherson's kitchen. Nor was it that Gilbert Blythe had scandalously carried Anne in his arms the two miles to Green Gables while Diana Barry and Fred Wright followed him.

No, the news that burned hottest on people's lips that night was that Mr. Phillips had stolen away from his own going away party early, taking with him the McPherson's buggy and Prissy Andrews.