the Wakefield Doctrine

Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)

This is the Wakefield Doctrine’s contribution to the Six Sentence Story bloghop.

Denise is the host

Tom and I are writing a Serial Six Sentence Story: ‘…of Heroes and the MisUnderstood‘. (If you’re just starting, this link will provide the whole story.)

The prompt word is:

PRESENT

Standing at the towering wall of glass that looked out over the Miami business district, Cyrus St. Loreto felt at home; as insufficient a designator that phrase might be, given his unnaturally-long life.

A metaphor from Shakespeare came to mind, accompanied by a private smile as the sun conspired with the waves of the Atlantic to sneak up on the businessman: ‘The world was his oyster’. Rumors to the effect that he did some ‘reputation management’ work for the playwright was the stuff of corporate legend and rejected PhD dissertations. Given a certain span between ‘then’ and ‘the present’, the transient character of good and evil, endemic in the society of man since expulsion from a certain Garden, always transforms from liability to something more akin to power.

The business of the Bernebau Company and Cyrus’s personal interests were inseparable and as witness, carved into one of the columns in the first floor lobby:

“Fura ceea ce se poate, cumpara ceea ce trebuie atunci repossess rămâne.” *

In no small measure an indication of his reputation, there was nary a comment, Romanian or otherwise. in any business publications on the meaning of the inscription; at the moment, which is the only place Cyrus St. Loreto operated from, the affair in Iceland demanded his special talents.

*’Steal what you can, buy what you must, repossess what remains.’

Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)

This is the Wakefield Doctrine’s contribution to the Six Sentence Story bloghop.

Denise is the host and reminds us to allow only six sentences to tell (our) tales.

Tom and I are writing a Serial Six Sentence Story: ‘…of Heroes and the MisUnderstood‘. (If you’re just starting, this link will provide the whole story.)

Most previously in our tale: this from us and this from Tom.

The prompt word is:

PRESENT

“No, I don’t care if the Miller Analogies are in twenty minutes…”

In the delightfully subversive ways of the unconscious mind, my desire to remain asleep incorporated a persistent shoulder shaking as part of my dream… something to the effect of having to get up out of bed and a girl who was slapping the palm of her hand with a ruler; Waking World: Zero / Enjoyable Dreams: One.

Like they say, from the moment you believe you can figure out how the stage magician achieves his illusion, you’ve surrendered the joy of pretending in exchange for the dubious power of maturity; it takes most of us getting to the far end of life, if we’re lucky, to again appreciate youth.

Cyrus St. Loreto’s private plane did nothing to betray either our velocity or location, which for anyone keeping score was: a skosh under the speed of sound and on final approach to Iceland’s Keflavik Airport; in the spirit of the dichotomy of life, despite the engineering to maintain the bliss of not knowing, there was a display over the cockpit door spelling out present position and speed.

Isla was lying on her left side, an inhale and a venial sin next to me, our adjacent seats reclined as one; seeing my eyes open, she lifted the blanket covering us enough for me to see my phone leaning against her left leg… it was live and the caller ID showed: Rue.

Given the rapid development of our relationship, I felt comfortable enough to move my right hand down to hunt ‘n peck a text message; I think Isla was hoping it might involve the use of excessive emojis.

As always Rue had taken the initiative, her text: ‘Are you alright?’