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Mind the gap!
I can’t get out. The wreck shifted, maybe rolled over, and now the hole I crawled in is sitting against the ocean floor. The water is frigid, even through the wetsuit. My tank’s gauge is in the yellow, almost touching the red. I should have never been here today. I broke every rule to get here, ignored the commandments, and now I’m going to pay the price. An old, military wreck in the middle of the Caribbean seemed like the perfect place to explore. Now I’m going to join the ranks of the ghostly crew. I can’t even pretend to myself that my family will have an open casket. I’ve seen the pictures of long-lost divers. They just rot away.
Rule One: Get proper training.
I’d always had an affinity for the water, always loved seeing what was under the surface. At the lake, you could always find me snorkeling around in the shallows, or sometimes freediving with only a pair of goggles and the breath in my iron lungs. It came as a surprise to no one, especially not to my family when I got my PADI open water certification at sixteen. Young, but actually fairly common in the part of the world where I lived. I’d managed to coast by with that certificate through the rest of high school and into college. I’d never thought to get another certificate after that, after all I pretty much grew up on the water. Knew the ocean like the back of my hand.
Up until now, I’d never realized how much of a cocky son of a bitch I really was. I guess that’s the problem with being full of yourself, you think you’re the shit. When I’d jumped off the boat and into the water, I had brushed off my anxiety about diving the wreck with all the experience I had on the water. I’d forgotten that in a wreck, you can’t just float to the surface. There’s no easy way out.
Rule 2: Never Dive alone
My friends were all tuckered out from exploring the reef from yesterday, and wanted to sleep in. I’d gotten up early for a day on the water and taken out the same boat that we’d been using yesterday. I was hoping at the start that I might be able to hook some fish and bring them back for lunch, be the hero of our little expedition. We’d thow ‘em on the grill and have lunch on the beach.
My friends we from college, and most hadn’t been on a real sailboat. I hadn’t woken them because I’d figured that they’d just slow me down, and that maybe they’d like the surprise of a fresh catch. I’d gone out in the boat all on my lonesome.
Rule 3: Plan Your Dive and Dive Your Plan
I’d bagged maybe three or four snapper, and even an angel fish in an hour or so. That’s when I noticed the shadow of the boat. It was a massive beast, split in two, deep below the waves. I was never great on history, but it looked like an old German U-boat, sunk by the Allies doing some nefarious deed. With that, the seeds of my death were sown. If I’d taken another boat that morning, if we’d taken out the diving gear out that afternoon when we’d gotten back to clean it, if I hadn’t had the dumbass idea to go out by myself. Thoughts of fishing put aside, I’d geared up and grabbed one of the full air tanks that we’d had spare. I never expected to find anything like that. The whole thing was spur of the moment.
It’s getting harder to breathe, and I can’t much of anything. I kicked up too much silt. The pressure gauge is in the far red now, and with every breath I take, I have to suck harder on the regulator. I think there’s air pooling at the top of the compartment, but not much, probably not even an inch. It’ll have to last as long as I can make it.
Someone will find my boat anchored up at the surface. This part of the reef is a pretty popular fishing spot in the afternoon. That’ll be hours. I have minutes.
I’m sorry.
Rule One: Get proper training.
I’d always had an affinity for the water, always loved seeing what was under the surface. At the lake, you could always find me snorkeling around in the shallows, or sometimes freediving with only a pair of goggles and the breath in my iron lungs. It came as a surprise to no one, especially not to my family when I got my PADI open water certification at sixteen. Young, but actually fairly common in the part of the world where I lived. I’d managed to coast by with that certificate through the rest of high school and into college. I’d never thought to get another certificate after that, after all I pretty much grew up on the water. Knew the ocean like the back of my hand.
Up until now, I’d never realized how much of a cocky son of a bitch I really was. I guess that’s the problem with being full of yourself, you think you’re the shit. When I’d jumped off the boat and into the water, I had brushed off my anxiety about diving the wreck with all the experience I had on the water. I’d forgotten that in a wreck, you can’t just float to the surface. There’s no easy way out.
Rule 2: Never Dive alone
My friends were all tuckered out from exploring the reef from yesterday, and wanted to sleep in. I’d gotten up early for a day on the water and taken out the same boat that we’d been using yesterday. I was hoping at the start that I might be able to hook some fish and bring them back for lunch, be the hero of our little expedition. We’d thow ‘em on the grill and have lunch on the beach.
My friends we from college, and most hadn’t been on a real sailboat. I hadn’t woken them because I’d figured that they’d just slow me down, and that maybe they’d like the surprise of a fresh catch. I’d gone out in the boat all on my lonesome.
Rule 3: Plan Your Dive and Dive Your Plan
I’d bagged maybe three or four snapper, and even an angel fish in an hour or so. That’s when I noticed the shadow of the boat. It was a massive beast, split in two, deep below the waves. I was never great on history, but it looked like an old German U-boat, sunk by the Allies doing some nefarious deed. With that, the seeds of my death were sown. If I’d taken another boat that morning, if we’d taken out the diving gear out that afternoon when we’d gotten back to clean it, if I hadn’t had the dumbass idea to go out by myself. Thoughts of fishing put aside, I’d geared up and grabbed one of the full air tanks that we’d had spare. I never expected to find anything like that. The whole thing was spur of the moment.
It’s getting harder to breathe, and I can’t much of anything. I kicked up too much silt. The pressure gauge is in the far red now, and with every breath I take, I have to suck harder on the regulator. I think there’s air pooling at the top of the compartment, but not much, probably not even an inch. It’ll have to last as long as I can make it.
Someone will find my boat anchored up at the surface. This part of the reef is a pretty popular fishing spot in the afternoon. That’ll be hours. I have minutes.
I’m sorry.
This was something of an odd duck ... less story than PSA, which was reinforced rather unsubtly by that link at the end (and the bolded section headings). Still, that's a rather unique and relevant way of approaching the prompt, and if the goal was education, well, it was structured well to succeed at that goal.
I really have no comments on the story qua story, other than to urge a quick formatting and typo pass. It wasn't narratively thrilling, but fit its intended purpose pretty well. About the best and worst I can say about this is that it didn't really grab me, but that I appreciate that it set out to do something unusual and (I think) succeeded in that goal.
Also, I really don't think the title fits. "Mind the gap" is from, IIRC, a PSA campaign about British light rail, and the "gap" specifically refers to the distance between the platform and the train, so trying to force that into a different context sort of breaks the phrase.
Tier: Strong
I really have no comments on the story qua story, other than to urge a quick formatting and typo pass. It wasn't narratively thrilling, but fit its intended purpose pretty well. About the best and worst I can say about this is that it didn't really grab me, but that I appreciate that it set out to do something unusual and (I think) succeeded in that goal.
Also, I really don't think the title fits. "Mind the gap" is from, IIRC, a PSA campaign about British light rail, and the "gap" specifically refers to the distance between the platform and the train, so trying to force that into a different context sort of breaks the phrase.
Tier: Strong
So... humanizing warnings by attaching a story them is a good idea, if what you're trying to do is create a more effective warning. There's a school around here that does a fake car-crash right before homecoming, complete with an ambulance and crying family, in an attempt to cut down on drunk driving. I'm sure it's saved lives.
However, attaching warnings to a story in the way you've done makes it somewhat less effective as a story, I think, because it's a bit too obvious what you're doing with your narrative. It's a bit too straightforwards, without enough subtext to really suck me in (unless you're doing a clever subversion somewhere that I missed.) To that end, I think this would have been more effective without the one-two-three and picture, but just as a story of someone getting in over their head and dying. And as such a story, I do think it works alright; it's a straight tragedy, but it's also tinged with enough reflection that this guy's hopelessness comes through fairly strongly.
On the whole, this has some really good elements. Unfortunately, the design choices make it a bit difficult for me to really invest in it. Perhaps if I was a diver, I'd find it more compelling.
However, attaching warnings to a story in the way you've done makes it somewhat less effective as a story, I think, because it's a bit too obvious what you're doing with your narrative. It's a bit too straightforwards, without enough subtext to really suck me in (unless you're doing a clever subversion somewhere that I missed.) To that end, I think this would have been more effective without the one-two-three and picture, but just as a story of someone getting in over their head and dying. And as such a story, I do think it works alright; it's a straight tragedy, but it's also tinged with enough reflection that this guy's hopelessness comes through fairly strongly.
On the whole, this has some really good elements. Unfortunately, the design choices make it a bit difficult for me to really invest in it. Perhaps if I was a diver, I'd find it more compelling.
I’m experiencing here the same sort of dissonance I experienced with A Man Must Learn to Love: on the one side, we are in a story – the point of view is inside the head of the narrator, who has no means to leave a testimony of what he thinks, so this is definitely a story.
On the other side, you pepper this story with rules and things to remember when scuba-diving, which give a definite didactic dimension to your text. It could be part of a textbook about what to do or not to do when diving.
The problem is that once more I get the impression the story is contrived, the arc being purposefully crafted to match the lesson you’re trying to teach. It leaves me with aftertaste of artificiality.
At the end of the day, I think the lesson would’ve been stronger if you had presented it in a more dramatic way.
Consider this (true) story:
A boat is found adrift on the Mediterranean Sea. When people climb aboard, they discover a puzzling mystery: no one aboard, no corpses, nothing. Yet, on the deck, a table is dressed, dishes marred with scraps of food still lying there. It's like the people had vanished in thin air. What has happened? Were they abducted by an UFO?
The boat is towed into dry dock and examined, but nothing remarkable is found… until someone notices faint scratches on the hull painting.
So, here is what the police thinks happened: the guys had a boozy – maybe too boozy – lunch. When they were finished, someone prolly said: “The last to dive into the water is a rotten egg!” and they all jumped overboard… except that no one thought about unrolling the ladder. And when they realised they were stranded in water, they desperately tried to haul themselves back on to the deck, scratching the hull with their nails… but never succeeded. And since they were never found, it’s certain they all died.
Now there’s a very practical lesson to be learnt here (i.e. ‘mind the ladder before jumping overboard’), but presented as this, I think it’s way more efficient than stating it explicitly, because the reader is prompted to ponder on it, rather than simply swallow it down.
Change the POV. Pretend scuba divers find the corpse of a guy in a wreck, scatter indices around, and roll back in time to unveil us why this guy ended here and what mistakes he made when he was still living. I think it would be much more punchy this way.
On the other side, you pepper this story with rules and things to remember when scuba-diving, which give a definite didactic dimension to your text. It could be part of a textbook about what to do or not to do when diving.
The problem is that once more I get the impression the story is contrived, the arc being purposefully crafted to match the lesson you’re trying to teach. It leaves me with aftertaste of artificiality.
At the end of the day, I think the lesson would’ve been stronger if you had presented it in a more dramatic way.
Consider this (true) story:
A boat is found adrift on the Mediterranean Sea. When people climb aboard, they discover a puzzling mystery: no one aboard, no corpses, nothing. Yet, on the deck, a table is dressed, dishes marred with scraps of food still lying there. It's like the people had vanished in thin air. What has happened? Were they abducted by an UFO?
The boat is towed into dry dock and examined, but nothing remarkable is found… until someone notices faint scratches on the hull painting.
So, here is what the police thinks happened: the guys had a boozy – maybe too boozy – lunch. When they were finished, someone prolly said: “The last to dive into the water is a rotten egg!” and they all jumped overboard… except that no one thought about unrolling the ladder. And when they realised they were stranded in water, they desperately tried to haul themselves back on to the deck, scratching the hull with their nails… but never succeeded. And since they were never found, it’s certain they all died.
Now there’s a very practical lesson to be learnt here (i.e. ‘mind the ladder before jumping overboard’), but presented as this, I think it’s way more efficient than stating it explicitly, because the reader is prompted to ponder on it, rather than simply swallow it down.
Change the POV. Pretend scuba divers find the corpse of a guy in a wreck, scatter indices around, and roll back in time to unveil us why this guy ended here and what mistakes he made when he was still living. I think it would be much more punchy this way.
Mind the Gap — B- — A good warning story about the dangers of going scuba diving alone, but falls flat with the general preachy-ness. After all, if he had brought a buddy, he/she would have either been trapped with the POV character or outside and helpless to help other than to identify the body in a few hours when the air ran out. Drowning this one like a kitten.
I am conflicted about this story. I really appreciate the message it's trying to convey, but the problem is that what I have in front of me, well… It's not really a story, is it? It's more of an extended blueprint for a safety video. Which is not a bad thing in and of itself, but we're here to read stories, right?
I believe that stories can carry a message even stronger than a mere safety warning can. Suffocating trapped in the bowels of a sunken ship surrounded by skeletons of crew past must be a horrifying, slow, and completely hopeless way to go. But instead of getting to experience this, we are given bullet-point instructions on what not to do. That's not how drama in stories works.
Drama should be experienced, not explained. Let us see the choices of the character through their own eyes. Lead us in. Show us the bad choices he makes. Show us his dismissal of safety precautions, let us see his rationalizations first hand. Show us how excited he got when he found the ship. Heck, let us get excited alongside him! Let us experience that tinge of anxiousness before he dives, that foreboding moment of “Maybe I am over my head here.” Then elate us with the magnificent sight of the innards of the ship. And then crush us alongside our hubris!
Instead of explaining what the character did wrong, let us make the wrong choices alongside him and then allow us to learn from his mistakes. That's how a story teaches its warning.
I believe that stories can carry a message even stronger than a mere safety warning can. Suffocating trapped in the bowels of a sunken ship surrounded by skeletons of crew past must be a horrifying, slow, and completely hopeless way to go. But instead of getting to experience this, we are given bullet-point instructions on what not to do. That's not how drama in stories works.
Drama should be experienced, not explained. Let us see the choices of the character through their own eyes. Lead us in. Show us the bad choices he makes. Show us his dismissal of safety precautions, let us see his rationalizations first hand. Show us how excited he got when he found the ship. Heck, let us get excited alongside him! Let us experience that tinge of anxiousness before he dives, that foreboding moment of “Maybe I am over my head here.” Then elate us with the magnificent sight of the innards of the ship. And then crush us alongside our hubris!
Instead of explaining what the character did wrong, let us make the wrong choices alongside him and then allow us to learn from his mistakes. That's how a story teaches its warning.
This is a very conflicting story for me. On the one hand, I like the idea of a person reflecting on their life as they slowly suffocate to death. There’s lots of narrative potential there, and there could be plenty of experimentation there. I also think scuba-diving into lost shipwrecks for treasure is a pretty interesting situation, both for death and just the narrative in general.
But at the end of the day, I don’t feel like this story did much with those ideas. It sets them up, but their execution felt lacking. The diving itself and the life reflection are barely connected, with the reflection taking up most of the story before the suffocation takes up the last bit of the story. This disconnect really hurts the story, as everything talked about just feels like it’s a separate story instead of intrinsically tied to this person’s coming death. Also, the story seemed more focused on being a PSA about scuba safety, what with the rules being interwoven in the text and the link to the poster at the end. It’s not bad information, but again, I feel like something was sacrificed in terms of story in order to bring this PSA to us.
A decent attempt, but lacking enough to not make much of an impression.
But at the end of the day, I don’t feel like this story did much with those ideas. It sets them up, but their execution felt lacking. The diving itself and the life reflection are barely connected, with the reflection taking up most of the story before the suffocation takes up the last bit of the story. This disconnect really hurts the story, as everything talked about just feels like it’s a separate story instead of intrinsically tied to this person’s coming death. Also, the story seemed more focused on being a PSA about scuba safety, what with the rules being interwoven in the text and the link to the poster at the end. It’s not bad information, but again, I feel like something was sacrificed in terms of story in order to bring this PSA to us.
A decent attempt, but lacking enough to not make much of an impression.
