Week 24: Mr. Chris

2/24/2021

Prompt:
The physicist Richard Feynman was once asked by a journalist what the feeling was when magnets repelled each other. Taking the journalist's grasp of physics in mind, Feynman replied, "Magnets repel each other." The journalist pressed, "Well, why?" Feynman then explained, in entertaining fashion, Aunt Minnie going to the hospital and why "why" is such a difficult question to answer--he eventually gets to the magnets as well. You can watch the full exchange here (7-minutes).

Your prompt, should you accept it, is to answer a why question in entertaining fashion.

Word Count:
175-200 words

Expectations:
-Remember that you are writing for the King's Academy community. Please be respectful of that community.
-Respect the word count
-Your work should have a title--this is not part of your word count.
-Include your full name and word count at the end of your submission.
-Have fun with this challenge.

Deadline:
22:00 Tuesday, March 2nd

Photo Source:
https://tr.pinterest.com/pin/524528687842330005/

2 Comments

Mr. Whiting

3/2/2021 12:02:50 pm

Prehensile

My mother is painting fruit again. She is smock-less and distractible behind her triptych of easels, daubing at bananas, explaining the meaning of the word ‘prehensile.’ It means adapted for grasping, she says. Like an elephant’s trunk. Daub, daub. Or a monkey’s tail. I give Artemis a commiserating look, but he leaps off the couch, haughty question mark aloft. NOT prehensile, I surmise. Mom pokes a raised eyebrow out. I say nothing.

When she returns to her still-life, I pass a furtive hand behind me, feeling for that old, embarrassed bone nub we all hide. Why don’t I have a tail? I could scratch my ankles from here, or pass notes in class, or finally learn to juggle. I could joust with Artemis. Mom swivels her canvas towards me brusquely, her way of soliciting feedback. Starchy pink chords of rhubarb extend precariously over our blue mixing bowl, nearly touching the canvas edge. I was wrong about the bananas. A pair of squidgy figs sit glumly in the corner. Mom has picked some decidedly un-Renaissance fruit, I think. She tosses me a fig. I fumble the catch.

186 words
Mr. Whiting

Mr. Chris

3/3/2021 01:10:43 am

Lovely writing, Mr. Whiting. A feedback driven artist, a disinterested monkey, and an inquisitive child. You took the prompt in your own direction, gave us all a luscious picture to wade through, and left me pondering my own unrealized grasps--the real and metaphoric.

You have the honor of creating next week's prompt and judging the competition.

Try Out Your Words

Week 24: Mr. Chris

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Week 24: Mr. Chris

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Try Out Your Words