Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)
So, maybe the photo will prompt the story, or failing that, influence the imagining of the tale that will unfold like a six-sided fan.
Ah! I was going for another photo entirely and came across the mug photo (‘the mug’s mug’, if you will) and seeing how this week’s prompt word is: ‘RETURN’, the story nearly writes itself!
New readers/participants: the Six Sentence Story is a challenging and altogether satisfying exercise in creative writing, unintentional self-expression and spontaneous, albeit risky TAT of a bloghop. Every week zoe selects a word and we all write stories of six and only six sentences. You should try it. Really. No, I’ll wait. (It’s Wednesday where I am, you got more time than you imagine.) (Let me know when).
RETURN
“Oh, you’re back, they told us you’d return as soon as… well, as soon as you, as you were better,” Myra Ross was that person, the one who made it her life’s mission to know as much as possible about the 150 people who worked on the 3rd floor. Ordained in the lonely, late-night genealogy of her quietly desperate life, she took on the responsibility of caring about everyone. From her desk in the first cubicle, which, by a fluke in the geometry of modern office design, allowed a commanding view of both the elevators and, with a minor chair-swivel, the Claims Department’s vast sea of cubicles; five days a week Myra kept watch, hoping that her projectile concern would be felt (and returned) by someone not as lonely and desperate as she.
You start to smile but immediately feel the sharp interior tug of new scar tissue and half-successfully arrest the motion of your hand face-wards, preferring to let it assay an un-necessary and totally meaningless wave in the direction for the large woman’s voice, now quieting into the increasing distance. In the indoors world of the office workspace, it’s a semaphore of remarkable potency; to wave to a person while both are still indoors is much like quietly singing a pop song in the middle of Mass, it will not be ignored, however may not demand retribution.
You sit down in your cubicle, the computer display blank and dark, (the porthole of every ocean-travelling ship still tied to the dock) and see flowers and un-stamped envelopes (with Hallmark embossed on the triangular back flap) in a small stack; the space beneath your name left blank as the men and women with whom you’ve spent two thirds of your waking life for the past 11 years do not know your home address.
(Apologies for the seven sentenceness of the above story… please forgive my hypo-mathematical ability. It will be rectified.)
I have counted, written an entirely new Six Sentence Story, re-counted the original story and somehow saw what I was sure was at least 8 sentences turn into seven and even that extra sentence was somehow in the first line of the story, an errant period, surely. I am going to push back from the keyboard and read the other Sixes of my mathematically-competent friends and call it a night.
About clarkscottroger
oh, I liked this one.
Liked the photo.
And by the way, I think I am Frist.
Frist, in fact, you are!
Okay I haven’t even read the rest of the story yet because I’m just in shock. Are you kidding me you can actually hold fluid in that thing? And why would you want to all I can figure is using it
OMG ZOE Me too! I was like wait, did he Photoshop that? But of course, Clark would NOT photoshop that because it’s too damn awesome as it is holding liquid and REALLY??? Holy shimoly (working on swearing because The Boy thinks it’s fucking hilarious) (oops)
Awesome story, Clark!!! Seriously.
Does your coffee taste glue-ish??? People want to know.
only a little for the first cup or two. my teeth on the other hand have been spot-free since. (lol… sorry for the poorly constructed joke, but there was excess glue on the inner surface that I have to soak then dry and peel.)
Would totally lacerate your mouth period sorry I was in such shock I hit post too soon
a gentleman sips carefully…. lol
It looks totally unhealthy to me.
Wow…now Im sad too…which says a lot about how well written your story is… Well done… so why in the world would that mug be so important? I mean there really are uglier mugs out there I know you refer to it as the ugliest mug but still
the thing is, the mug was pretty plain and not attractive when it was new, somewhere in the mid 60s. But I started using it in the early 70s which is, somehow, 40 some odd* years ago.
call me sentimental….lol
*very odd
Dude, the cup!! The ☕️!!!
yeah, huh is that a cup or is that a cup
“hoping that her projectile concern would be felt (and returned) by someone not as lonely and desperate as she.”
This is a powerfully written story…and oh-too-familiar.
Six sentences, seven sentences, whose counting? An grammar teacher worth her pay would have used up a hundred red marking pens on our run-on sentences by now, and still we continue because there are stories to be told. I count my sentences over and over during construct, and yet often find as I am ready to post that I somehow miscounted. The devil is in the details.
This story was all too real. I know and have worked in similar office situations, one for nineteen years, and sadly, I learned over the course of time that it is far better to keep your personal life to yourself and talk about weather and cats and dogs and such. I can’t say as I knew the mailing address for any of the staff where I’ve worked, though I had access to it if I felt need of it. I felt for your character, she is obviously lonely for human interaction and companionship, and the likelihood of finding it of any real depth there is slim. I know it isn’t always that way, but often it is.
Ok, where is my red pen? Not “whose”, who’s!! So much for the ramblings of a tired brain! ☺️
lol
thank you, Josie… for a place we spend so much of our lives, the workplace can be so…. (fill in the blank)
In some offices, everyone feels like part of the family, but only some. Well told!
thank you
You do have a way with words. Semaphore of remarkable potency.
the fun of this ‘hop, no?
I hadn’t even counted the sentences. If TToT can be a suggestion of ten, I suppose a Six Sentence Story has some leeway, too.
It is interesting, isn’t it, how people in work environments can both know so much and so little about each other?
Nice illustration (if nice is the right word) for how we can be lonely even when surrounded by company. Sad.
I am also stuck on the mug – unbelievable that it actually holds liquid. That must be some glue you have there!
lots of superglue and superglue-like substances. ….lots
I recall working in the world of cubicles–crazy stuff like mandatory birthday celebrations. I was too young and afraid to object then–now I’d protest vigorously. Anyway, you describe the atmosphere very well.
yeah… the world of rogers (I had a similar response to that environment, back in the day…the very few days I spent in those kinds of jobs) I look back from my perspective and see how much different the world might have been, had I been able to shift my perspective just a bit
thanks!
“Shifting perspective”–the key to improved life, and writing, eh? (Hope this comment posts, as it wasn’t working from my blog…tech glitches don’t improve my perspective :) )