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

Look at how light it is! (The photo above was taken at 6:18 pm 03/30/16), how nice is this DST? Warming up for my Six, not to give anything away, but I’m thinking a play on words might be fun! I mean, I enjoy my Sixes but I also admire the straightforward stories (sometimes fun, other times humorous) that the others write. Although naturally inclined to go the Stream of Consciousness route (I have no idea why), a direct narrative story, one that is also engaging, now that’s a worthy goal. (Author’s Note: having just completed the story let me say, ‘yeah, right!’)

Anyway,  we’ll just have to see what shows up, ya know? zoe does this bloghop, this Six Sentence Story, each Thursday and the object is to take the prompt word, this week it’s ‘floor’, and write a story involving the word of the week and using exactly Six Sentences to do so.

The world before him slowly reformed, one sense at a time, his mind re-assumed its responsibility for informing him of his current state of what-the-hell-is-going-on. Vision started the process, but clearly was not up to the task, a field of brown to his left and ‘non-brown’, brightening into too-bright, on his right. (For reasons he sensed he would not have the luxury of exploring), taste and smell joined in their part of forming his world, mostly in the smell of dog, (which triggered an inexplicable bloom of hope and simple happiness), and the taste of wool and dust, (mittens, warmth and sweaty enclosures), both linked, yet neither dependent on the present moment. Hearing returned, like the tumbling of stones under a receding ocean’s wave, a sound that conveyed a sense of huge, (despite it’s fading), seemed to contain the promise of a return that inspired childlike awe, made more bearable by the sounds of distant morning birds, like the first raindrops on the windshield of a speeding car. Touch returned last, always the most comprehensive of his senses, (its countless descriptions formed his presence in and of the world), providing only the disquieting intelligence that he was not standing and the world was receding, like the stages of a light brightening from ‘just barely visible’ to ‘all the light in the world’, the quality of ‘approaching’ or ‘receding’ was losing it’s importance.

He sensed change and felt an ember of not-fear growing somewhere in the middle of where he was.

(Floor)