Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)
Of late, the most difficult part of writing a Six Sentence Story is trying to settle on ‘an effect’ (of the story). (Wait…you gotta hear this! You know what I’ve actually had to do to come up with ideas? ‘Play’ the word in my head, like a repeating song fragment …all day. Then (hopefully) have a dream that involves the prompt word. Once that happens, the rest is typing. Weird, huh?)
In any event, each week our host, Denise, provides a ‘prompt word’ and invites each and all of us to write a story six sentences in length. Not five. Certainly not nine. Not even seven! Six sentences. (Gotta be that way, otherwise the name of the ‘hop would have to be changed.)
Thinking about a certain little canine with a jutting jaw and a rakish manner as one use of this week’s prompt word comes to mind. (“Hey! Joules! ARR!!”)
This week, the word is:
HATCH
As he drew nearer the three people in front of the house, the feeling of loss and regret spread like floodwaters through his marginal self-awareness, leaving only rooftops and tall trees where once there was his normal life; it seemed that he was in a car, not that that mattered, as he didn’t recognize the house nor care how he came to be wherever he was, all the hallmarks of a half-lucid dream. Knowing, or at least being aware of knowing, why he should feel so bad had as little impact on his emotional response to the scene as a fly walking across the screen of a drive-in theater.
Standing together, the too-young child suddenly made the man and the woman’s altered appearance reasonable; inferential linchpin hammered home, brought acceptance of the fact that, in this reality, they, like him, were older too.
Like an exhausted swimmer feeling the first touch of a sandy-but-solid bottom, he reminded himself none of it was real, ‘…an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of underdone potato‘, unfortunately neither the sense of being in a dream nor his own cleverness blunted the realization that crying was the law of gravity in this new/old world.
He grinned ruefully at the image he’d previously found to enhance his initial idea for a story, some of the never-to-be-written story whispered, ‘Once secured, the deck hatch keeps the boat from sinking in the storm, even as the ocean waves wash over the deck, seeking a way inside.’
‘Shit, maybe I’ll stick to just making up a story next time’, he thought, sipping the coffee, waiting with just a touch of desperation for it’s anti-stimulant effect on the continued sense of loss, as the rainy morning washed the night into day.
(oddly related, optional music)
About clarkscottroger
You always get so much into a sentence. Good six – again!!
thanks, Paul!
Holy shit damn.
Whatever it is you do with your word arrangement (analogies/comparisons/descriptions) serves, for me at least, to set me up big time when I least expect it.
Sense of melancholy here. Jam packed with emotion.
…the bit about undigested bits of beef, blot of mustard..nice touch. Reminds me, I can almost hear George C. Scott as Ebanezer…but maybe that’s my lucid dream.
Btw, intentional or not, musical selection perfect.
yeah, the song (from the early 70s!) turned out to be a good ‘un.
Dickens did have a way with words… the rhythm as much as the text (example courtesy of wikipedia:”The cold within him froze his old features, nipped his pointed nose, shrivelled his cheek, stiffened his gait; made his eyes red, his thin lips blue; and spoke out shrewdly in his grating voice.”)
So many images came to mind as I read your SSS! What a rough night!
the mind can be funny* the replay of the past, like a forgotten song, often comes with an emotional soundtrack that you thought was long since worn out.
*not necessarily ‘ha ha’ funny, just funny
Perchance to dream of the cue word — it certainly makes for an interesting story.
so much for writing ahead of schedule! I rarely ‘pre-write’ a post… there is something about the energy. the ‘first post’ would simply have been about being on a fishing boat. the photo at the top of the post is of a ‘deck plate’ (aka hatch cover) these were used to secure the round openings in the deck that allowed us to dump the catch directly into the pens in the fish hold below. The tool (in the photo) is often referred to as a ‘deck key’, its inserted into the hexagonal indentation in the center of the hatch and turned… which would cause levers on the underside of the hatch cover to wedge the cover again the deck, making it watertight.
that Dickens quote is my fav. old Ebby says it wt sucj disdain trying to beo tough and gets sjot down so jard by Marley…. love it…is fiting you should us t cuz you too have ecome sucj a painter ih words!,
thnks
I type lik tht on flsz kybrds
me too.
DAMN, MY COMMENT GOT EATEN ALIVE! NO IM NOT INEBRIATED! FRICKIN PHONE TEXTING!
lol
I gt it. A cntst! r an ad fr ‘If y cn rd ths yr abv avrg in intlgnc
‘The future is vowel free.’ (Hari Seldon)
no above avg. here.
Such an interesting siiiiix. You are broadening your range. I wasn’t sure if I had one this week either, then relied on old characters and also cheated by doubling up.
thanks… trying (though can’t say the ‘dream-a-plot’ approach is all that enjoyable.) I love having characters that I go to and, basically say, ‘Hey! I need you to help me tell a story!’