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Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: HOT (08/10/17)
Angelica arrived home first, as always, but today was different. The power was out. She left her car and its frigid temperature only to be slapped in the face by a wave of hot, humid air. She fumbled with keys at the entry door, repeatedly reinserting it. The key was poorly cut. Bubbles of sweat formed on her body. Finally, she entered through the doorway as quickly as possible. The heat in the house was unbearable. She felt suffocated. Entombed. Claustrophobic.



"There is no air," she grumbled as she scrambled about the house, slamming windows upward anticipating a fresh breath of air. The entry door remained opened as she hoped the outside air would replace the inside oven. Worried, her mind shifted towards her children, her babies. She considered their discomfort in the immense heat. She pampered the two of them as if they were in their first years of school. They were actually in their late teens.



She wanted to shower and collapse on the sofa, but instead, Angelica hurried toward the kitchen to quickly fix dinner, but there was no power.



"What can I do?" she questioned. Without thinking, she hastily pulled open the frig door. That was a mistake! She was suddenly assaulted by the aroma of spoiled meat. The frustration kept building, working her into a frenzy. Impulsively she turned the knob on the electric range to check for power.



"Wake up! Wake up!" she spoke out loud to herself. "You idiot! There's no power! He will be home any second expecting everything to be perfect."



Now she realized that she was in the same old repetitious panic. She felt her heart pounding and a migraine developing.



"Enough!" she screamed.



The truth of her situation boiled to the surface of her being. Her face became flushed with the rage of heat.



"I can't fix him. God! No matter how hard I try, I can't fix him," she blurted into an empty kitchen.



The burn of that very moment pushed Angelica to resolve. Somehow she found courage. She lifted her head and stiffened her chin. Moving forward across the kitchen, she quickly stretched into the cabinet and took hold of two bottles. Her arms were bruised, peppered with his purple, blue fingerprints. This spot high in the cupboard was his special place. She knew this was off limits and the cost would be dear.



Suddenly, she heard the sound of his engine.



"Hurry! Hurry!"



She unscrewed the bottle tops and drained the contents into the sink, oblivious to the sound of the gurgle and the pungent odor. Now the empty bottles were the evidence.



"My cell. Where's my cell!! He's coming!



Trembling, she dialed 9-1-1 as the car door slammed. She flinched. Eternity seemed to pass as the call went through.



"He's going to be hot, real hot," she thought.



"This is 9-1-1, emergency. What is your emergency?"



"Oh Jesus! Please help me!"
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This article has been read 389 times
Member Comments
Member
Date
Larry Whittington
08/18/17
We can only what is coming.

Since the children did not appear at the house, I would not have included them in the picture. The question comes up: where are the children - at the baby sitter or where?

You had good use of paragraphs.

The emotions came out powerfully.

A sad situation.
Loni Bowden-Horn 
08/20/17
II felt the range of emotion and anguish in this piece. This was a heart-wrenching and sobering story.

I felt the ending was the compelling part of the entry. I would it right to the front. For a more explosive opening you may try more showing. Something like this:

I cowl in the hall closet. My fingers tremble as I dial
9-1-1 on my cellphone.

Darkness envelops me. The raging storm outside has knocked out all the power in the neighborhood

I wipe all the sweat off my brow. The intensity of the heat and humidity overwhelm me

My heart begins to race. My breathing is labored. The acrid air feels like a liquid gas burning my lungs.

I can hear shards of glass come crashing against the wall.

"Woman, you will be getting what is coming when I catch you for pouring my liquor down the drain."

My life feels shattered and broken like the tiny pieces that remain.

My husband's footsteps draw nearer.

I see a beam of light flash under the door of my sanctuary

Since showing is not one of my forte, perhaps some other readers can offer you suggestions as well.

I believe if you could eliminate unnecessary information in the piece, it could be even stronger.

Thank you for sharing such a difficult topic.
Loni Bowden-Horn 
08/24/17
Jay,

Congratulations on your 2nd place in the beginner level.