Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)
Another Thursday slips and slides towards us, a drunken elephant accidentally delivered to the ice fields of the Canadian Northwest rather than the arid savannahs of Equatorial Botswana, it’s only consolation being the 180 proof amnesia that will welcome the pachyderm, bruised knees and sore trunk on the following morning.
Ahem! sorry for the odd warm-up. This is, of course, zoe’s Six Sentence Story. The Six Sentence Story bloghop is where each week, our host, zoe, offers a prompt word and invites us to write a story, six sentences in length. It’s fun. You should try it?
Sink.
The cast iron sink was old and it was nearly empty. The years showed in the worn enamel, now the ancient pale of an attic-baked newspaper, its original self not entirely covered in ink-bled words. The pitted chrome faucet aimed it’s perfectly formed drops at the bullseye of the drain, a dark sun, shiny edged with a pale green halo. An empty can of Campbell’s Vegetable Beef Soup, its thin metal top tipped at an angle, the lid of a toilet frozen in nearly-open/ almost-banging-shut position, sat to the right of the drain, silent witness to the single drop deluge. Suspended beneath the long, smooth neck of the faucet, like a lifeboat stuck between a massive ship and the stormy sea, was a wire-frame basket, a red and blue dishrag strangled itself, lengths of rough-smooth cloth hanging limply over the sides.
Leaning against the sink’s voluptuously rounded edge, the young man felt the touch of warm flesh against his back and resolved, in the eternally sincere desperation of morning, to find the path that would allow ‘what might be’ to have equal footing next to ‘what probably would be’.
sink
About clarkscottroger
Very nice. Very
thanks Paul
Reading s*@! like this is supposed to encourage me to keep writing. And yet I’m feeling all intimidated. Bravo 👏
ty
Wow, here I am enjoying a moment of nostalgia, remembering doing dishes at my mother’s kitchen sink, and suddenly we have warm flesh thrown into the mix, totally diverting my attention to far more intriguing, dare we say enchanting, possibilities! And then you leave us wondering! Arrggghhh! Well done I say!
thanks what I get for mixing reality and memory
Excellent word picture!
thank you
You made me see my Nana’s sink, and then, well, i hope you write more of this one.
just between you and me, not sure where that last part came from, well, I do know, but not sure why it got itself attached to the first part.
What excellent detail you have included in this tale and none more so than the warm flesh feel that set another goal for him.
…and as we all know, a goal should just exceed one’s grasp
This is wonderfully descriptive. I certainly wasn’t expecting the sudden change of diection though! Excellent.
you should talk! (compliments on your own ‘sharp angle close’ Six)
Ah, Clark, everything in one story, including the kitchen sink. I’m sure he’s all with what will probably come next as he can always deal with what should be after he enjoys what will probably be next – warm flesh.
I thought he was in the kitchen, but then I realized he was in the bathroom, but what he may be in is an antique one room house or shack. Perhaps the warm flesh is an hallucination.
Kudos on your very descriptive writing!
(Don’t tell anyone… but) lol the sink was based on the sink in an apartment I rented during my graduate school days. It was a third floor walk up and the counter around the sink was linoleum. But it was a very large sink. Heat for the 3 rooms of the apartment was from a gas stove. (funny the things we remember)
Well done! A very visual description. Very intriguing and it leaves me wondering…….:)
what a nice thing to say! (‘it leaves me wondering‘) lol
Ooh, I like this one. Interesting possibilites… And great description of the normalcies of the kitchen sink. I remember sinks just like that.
based on a real sink, too (what is it about writing that if it’s in the real world, it’s easier to write about)…or, at least, write effectively (about)