100-word challenge: "Some like it hot; do the right thing."
TITLE: The Boiling Frog Effect
The left faucet flowed full tilt. It didn't take long for the water to turn from cold to tepid to hot. Then boiling. My children were like frogs in the pot, unsuspecting victims, the ones I was pushing--ever so slowly--until something was likely to give. The accruing of temperature was so smooth and subtle that the poor things didn't notice the thermal damage. Nor I. I didn't realize how scalding a father's disapproval can be on children. First-degree, second-degree burns, hurt. Third-degree ones scar. Their mother finally turned the right faucet, opened the drain, letting me go down.
Very well done, Gerard! What strikes me first is how the metaphor earns its keep without ever becoming a lecture. But you keep it grounded in the physical (the faucet, the drain, the degrees of burns) so we feel the heat before we understand it. That’s hard to do. Also, you’re not just describing the effect; you’re enacting it on us, your reader. Perfect pacing!
Old Father Gavin knocked around film school for a spell before he became a man of the cloth. So he peppered his homilies with references to his favorite flicks. He liked to say you do not need any fancy stone tablets or a full ten-count of rules to follow. Just “Do the Right Thing.”
But he would lament that many folks just could not seem to manage that, simple as it sounded. Seemed hell bent on Hell. To a trip downstairs when all was said and done. “Yup,” he’d say. “No doubt about it. Seems like ‘Some Like it Hot’.”
Wonderful story, Scott! A hundred words, and you managed to show us the entire life of this man! Also, you pulled off a sleight of hand. You're so good at that! We relax into the portrait of this film school dropout turned priest without realizing that the whole story is a setup. Ha! A shaggy dog story in a hundred words, told from a pulpit.
The door opened and the battle began. Pushing from either side. Warm coat? Shorts or a tee shirt? Bathing suit? Sunscreen or a hat and gloves? Boots or sandals? A hand goes up to protect the eyes from the glare. Minor adjustments or full on participation?
“Make a decision! In or out!” the kids yelled.
Paralyzed, Gavin’s eyes cleared as he looked out the door. He felt slightly aggrieved. The end of March was never sure which season it stood in. Indecision wreaked havoc. Gavin wished it would make up its mind.
Good one, Bill! You promise a debate, two camps, a split. You delivered! A great depiction of March! I think “slightly aggrieved” is the best phrase in your piece, not furious, not resigned, just a man who knows his complaint against March is absurd and makes it anyway.
100-word challenge: "Some like it hot; do the right thing."
TITLE: The Boiling Frog Effect
The left faucet flowed full tilt. It didn't take long for the water to turn from cold to tepid to hot. Then boiling. My children were like frogs in the pot, unsuspecting victims, the ones I was pushing--ever so slowly--until something was likely to give. The accruing of temperature was so smooth and subtle that the poor things didn't notice the thermal damage. Nor I. I didn't realize how scalding a father's disapproval can be on children. First-degree, second-degree burns, hurt. Third-degree ones scar. Their mother finally turned the right faucet, opened the drain, letting me go down.
Very well done, Gerard! What strikes me first is how the metaphor earns its keep without ever becoming a lecture. But you keep it grounded in the physical (the faucet, the drain, the degrees of burns) so we feel the heat before we understand it. That’s hard to do. Also, you’re not just describing the effect; you’re enacting it on us, your reader. Perfect pacing!
Powerful as always Caro
Thank you, Scott!
Double Feature
Old Father Gavin knocked around film school for a spell before he became a man of the cloth. So he peppered his homilies with references to his favorite flicks. He liked to say you do not need any fancy stone tablets or a full ten-count of rules to follow. Just “Do the Right Thing.”
But he would lament that many folks just could not seem to manage that, simple as it sounded. Seemed hell bent on Hell. To a trip downstairs when all was said and done. “Yup,” he’d say. “No doubt about it. Seems like ‘Some Like it Hot’.”
Wonderful story, Scott! A hundred words, and you managed to show us the entire life of this man! Also, you pulled off a sleight of hand. You're so good at that! We relax into the portrait of this film school dropout turned priest without realizing that the whole story is a setup. Ha! A shaggy dog story in a hundred words, told from a pulpit.
Thanks Caro and thanks for providing this great opportunity!
Some Like It Hot, Some Like It Not
The door opened and the battle began. Pushing from either side. Warm coat? Shorts or a tee shirt? Bathing suit? Sunscreen or a hat and gloves? Boots or sandals? A hand goes up to protect the eyes from the glare. Minor adjustments or full on participation?
“Make a decision! In or out!” the kids yelled.
Paralyzed, Gavin’s eyes cleared as he looked out the door. He felt slightly aggrieved. The end of March was never sure which season it stood in. Indecision wreaked havoc. Gavin wished it would make up its mind.
Some like it hot. Some like it not.
Good one, Bill! You promise a debate, two camps, a split. You delivered! A great depiction of March! I think “slightly aggrieved” is the best phrase in your piece, not furious, not resigned, just a man who knows his complaint against March is absurd and makes it anyway.