Month: September 2017 | the Wakefield Doctrine Month: September 2017 | the Wakefield Doctrine

Six Sentence Story -the Wakefield Doctrine-

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

Six Sentences (in which a) Story (is crafted, using a prompt word which pops) UP (once a week).

zoe (and Joules sit and watch the mailbox, which is virtual in reality, however, in this little exercise it’s a big green mailbox with a red flag in the shape of a robin; when the postman, Silas Varnum, closes the front of the box, he pulls on a white cotton string that rings a small silver bell. It’s Joules’ second favorite sound).

 

“No, sorry, ain’t nobody by that name here.”

The man stood in the tiny yard, leaf spattered grass shaped like a staple, connected the low white fence to the front of the porch of the small house.

“You might want to try up by where the winter church use ‘ta be; stay on Hiawatha Ave ’til it turns back into Circuit Ave, across from the ball field at Veira Park.”

One hand at the top of his rake echoed unconscious dreams of muskets and cannon; his white dress shirt buttoned to the top, the smooth, slightly darker color of worn collar points and cuffs added decorative piping to the uniform of a member of the army of the retired poor.

The young couple looked at each other and, each within themselves, sought to picture the future in Oak Bluffs. He heard society’s tutor-commander silently insisting that he succeed and make something of himself, the better to provide for his family. She felt the briefest of kicks within and like the briefest flaring of a distant star, burned with a fierce certainty that their home was just up the road.

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TToT -the Wakefield Doctrine-

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

Una and the Rose
(center-left foreground) A single red (and some other low-end of the spectrum colours) set like a precious stone in a circle of un-bloomed flowers.
(center-center) Una waits on all four legs and regards the camera with an alert expression, i.e. tail straight back parallel to the green grass and ears erect, triangles capturing all sound.

Each week Josie Two-Shoes hosts the Ten Things of Thankful bloghop, inviting everyone to share a list of people, places and things that have caused them to experience a feeling of gratitude. (It can be something as immediate as the still-hot cup on coffee to the right of your keyboard, or as time-worn as feeling of ‘rightness’ standing before the never-still ocean or even the spontaneous smile that appears when a dog wags their tail at you. She, (Josie, not the dog), provides an environment that encourages the comfortable exchange of these experiences, no matter what the background, temperament, mood or state-of-mind of the participant.

And that is where the TToT stands apart, in the way it encourages creativity of expression. As with any (other) art, and I will maintain that a bloghop like the TToT is very much an exercise in creative writing, some writers employ a style that speaks to the purity of simplicity, for example, those of Kristi or Pat. Then, there are those who have that gift of seeing the ordinary and taking it in an unexpected direction. Mimi does this with her thematic TToTs… (the first time I read one of them, I was like, ‘what??! lol… what a cool idea.‘) Others are conversational and reading their TToT posts is like being invited over to their house and just hangin out and getting all up on things, ordinary and extraordinary. Our host Josie and Kerry do this with a natural ease that cannot but bring a smile.

And then, there are the rest of us, (lol… I know! zoe is sitting back smiling, ‘hey Joules… get the popcorn! stat!)  I thought to myself, this morning, I thought, ‘ok what would be a little different…’)

P V Q S P S A A T J G E M M X 
H F I V E R T E N G U G I B U 
Y D Y R I N N O R U X N N M J 
L D L M T R T A R B E E D B X 
L G L E E U V E W Y T L F L C 
I A N T I I A O N E L L U X R 
S V N I T F R L C C L A L I D 
O I H Y V K E H W N E H N S R 
O C E A N I N K D O I C E N M 
Q P Z V D O R V A J R O S E H 
K P C H L Z Q D C W J L S D J 
E S U O H E E R T T O T D R O 
I K G G E D O C T R I N E A S 
D Y A I H T N Y C R S O B G I 
C X C V X H X O F W V E T J E 

 

ALMIRA
BOSR
CHALLENGE
CYNTHIA
DOCTRINE
DRIVING
GARDEN
GRAVITY
INTERNET
JOSIE
MINDFULNESS
OCEAN
PHYLLIS
SENTENCE
SIX
STORY
TECHNOLOGY
TREEHOUSE
UNA
VIRTUALWORLD
WAKEFIELD
WORK

Click here… go to the TToT!

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Six Sentence Story -the Wakefield Doctrine-

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

 

This week the prompt word is ‘PLATE’

Not: LATE or FREIGHT or even CRATE! …plate.

zoe’s instructions are quite explicit: a story that employs the word (in some capacity), limited in total length to precisely Six Sentences.

So this week’s Six Sentence Story is, like most of life here in the virtual world, mostly factual but in (some) part fictional. But then, therein lies the charm. The experience (and the inference that leads to an insight into the human psyche) were quite real. The day and time and place has been eaten by that famously hungry, increasingly attractive goddess, Lethe.

Plate

As I walked down Circuit Ave very early one Tuesday morning, in a forgotten year’s October, I noticed movement on the opposite side of the street. The street and it’s sidewalks were deserted; the combined effect of the time of year and the time of day. Only natives, (who claimed with defiance and pride the title of ‘Islander’) would be available, but few had the time or the interest to window-shop the businesses that hadn’t closed down on Labor Day.

I did not stop or slow my pace, rather I turned my head to the left and, once both eyes were looking ‘over there’ instead of ‘up ahead’, I saw a man walking parallel to me. Within that brief instant, a period in which a tick of a clock would be too long but a stutter of a heartbeat far too short an interval, I realized it was my reflection in a plate-glass window of a combination, gift shop/consignment clothing store, with the unlikely name of ‘Give it One More Try’.

After a laugh that was one part embarrassment but mostly appreciation of the world’s endless ability to surprise me, I thought, ‘You didn’t recognize yourself?’ (complete with a slight Yiddish accent); before I could admit I hadn’t, the thought came, ‘Well then, who were you expecting to see?’

 

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TToT -the Wakefield Doctrine-

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

Walking towards home on a Misty September morning.
Phyllis wearing her pink, ‘Meteor Crater’ hoodie walks with Una towards the house.
Not yet autumn brown, the leaves of the low bushes in the foreground are becoming increasingly transparent with the loss of the chlorophyl in their leaves.

This is the 789th installment of the Ten Things of Thankful. Please, lets hear it for Josie Two Shoes (and her predecessor and founder of this here bloghop here, Lizzi St. John-Lewis) without who’s (or whose or whos’) vision for a virtual playground of spirit-building equipment and toys and such, we would all be typing an entirely different set of words.

(And, you would, too, you know. Typing different words. If Josie (and Lizzi) were not a feature of your ‘virtual’ reality.)

There! see how simple this exercise can be? Two… or one Things of Thankful and I haven’t even inserted a single photo or superscripted number.

Continue? Thank you, I will.

(Well, yes. That would qualify. There are limits to the …solidity of Items that might be cited, but sure, to note an inferred permission…no, make that an encouragement to continue along a certain path towards the completion of a list of Ten Items, would be an un-contested entry of this week’s List.)

Is anyone keeping count? I imagine there are three. Thank god there is not a tribunal or agency that has final say over the number or the content of (any participant’s) Ten Things of Thankful post. That would surely transform a self-directed exercise into a duty or worse, something that ‘is really good for you to do’. Now this may be my Y Chromosome talking, but having a person tell me exactly how something must be done, in order for it to have merit or be deserving of the acceptance of others is a non-starter. (Not that there’s anything wrong with lacking a Y Chromosome… some of my best friends are Y Chrome deficient (YCdef… yo)).

So, in keeping with my Joyce homage. (yeah, as if). I will express explicit and unconditional gratitude to the Book of Secret Rules (aka the Secret Book of Rules). Writing weekly posts in this Etch-a-Sketch world of blogs and bloghops since it’s inception leaves me with a sense of appreciation (yeah, cha….ching!) of the creativity-empowering setting in which we are fortunate to interact with one and other each week. The BoSR/SBoR is, for me, the manifestation of this attitude, promulgated by ‘2J-Shoes’ and nurtured and supported by all participants. It is a most excellent demonstration of (an) ‘attitude of gratitude’.

I should (and, rather than leave it as a ‘conditional promissory verb’*, I will restate that), I will dar las gracias (and a shoutout to Kerry, who I associate with the SOC (both the blohop and, more importantly, the attitude of writing what is in the mind at the moment, trusting that the reader will, through the thaumaturgy of blog writing and reading, will find elements here that encourage and support their own efforts along the same lines.)

(Yeah, there are the standard Items in this, (as in all of our TToT posts), that form the context and foundation of our personal expression of gratitude. This being a ‘weekend’ ‘hop, I will continue it tomorrow, when I might be in a more explicit mood. (Or would that be, more properly a, ‘more literal mood’?…  well, since you asked, I’ll go with ‘a more explicitly literal mood’.)

As the simplest of demonstrations of the ‘user friendly-ness’ of the TToT, I will mention that I intend to return to these pages tomorrow with additional Items of Grat, possible photos of interest and, given the nature of life (and to borrow a meme from Denise (at Girlie on the Edge)…ie if I awaken tomorrow, (the implied uncertainty being the most city-block-wide-red-spray-paint graffiti of gratitude in its most fundamental form) I might even have some additional photos. ten four

(New Readers? math and the unfair restrictions it would impose upon us is an optional quality here at the Doctrine. So, that ‘789th Post’ thing, at the top? It might be true!*)

*one of the simplest ‘tests’ that are available to help determine the predominant worldview of a person, (aka personality type), here at the Doctrine? Go up to the person you’re not sure of and ask: “How much is 2 + 2?” If they answer immediately with not the slightest of hesitation, you’re safe with roger… if they look at you and laugh (good-naturedly) you can rest east that they be a scott. If, however, they take their time, look down to their left, start to answer, look around to see if there’s anyone else around and then say, “In what context?”  you’re safe going with a probable clark.

…oh yeah, that reminds me!

Here is a somewhat impromptu Item… (actually it represents a form of hypo-grat of the most extenuating sort**  I was talking to Val (on the Facebook regarding a link that I put in the morning’s Gravity Challenge reminder. ( I send them each morning to Joy and Val and Kristi, except for Sunday morning)… in any event, it was a clip from ‘The Princess Bride’, the joke about the use of the word ‘inconceivable’.) In any event, I went back to the youtube and looked up ‘Princess Bride’ and came across one of my favorite scenes and, to use a true rogerian expression, as I thought about my developing writing skill, as I watched the scene, ‘my head swelled up and my face fell’. To be able to write a scene like this… ayiiee!

(the scene:

10) SR 1.3

 

* not a ‘real’ grammatical or rhetorical term

** if you recognized a faux rogerian expression, I tip my hat.

 

(The rabbit hole)

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Six Sentence Story -the Wakefield Doctrine-

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

The word is ‘CAST’

The format is Six Sentences (only) Story.

zoe is our host

 

CAST

The long, green-tiled hallway was lined with closed doors, slanted outwards at the ceiling above each, white-frosted clerestory windows were waterfalls of earnest, young voices. The boy’s hand tentatively brushed the shiny-soft brass doorknob.

“Mrs. Avery, Mrs. Avery! I know!” the gender-temporary contralto echoed of summer forts and late sunsets, the boy stopped outside the classroom.

“Yes, Keith, please come up to the front of the class and give your report”

The cloud-dark September morning began to clear, the door at the end of the hallway spreading a light carpet, the trapezoid flowed from the glass and raced towards the boy’s untied shoelaces.

“Paul Revere was a silversmith in…” the earnest voice faded as the boy ran down the hallway, the die he could not remember throwing, already cast.

 

(Thanks to our guest characters: Mrs. Avery and young Keith)

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