Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)
This is (our contribution) to (zoe’s) bloghop, the Six Sentence Story.
Each Thursday a new prompt word. Each week a story, six (and only six) sentences in total length. (Thank god for semicolons!)
SUSPEND
The hands resting on the open lesson planner were worn and wrinkled, with the exception of the nails and cuticles that were so perfect as to force the image of a young girl grasping an ancient tree trunk, fingers lying, protected, between the ridges and grooves of ancient bark.
Whispered exclamations and quiet laughter grew in volume in the corridor and, like broken houses ripped from the once-dry earth by flood waters, exclamations of ‘No way!‘ and ‘Did you hear about Zacharia?!‘ punctuated the sounds of a school’s worth of children returning from Christmas vacation.
Sister Cletus had learned, more years ago than her pupil’s parents had years, that the first students entering the classroom were never a reason to be on her guard, rather like a tsunami, it was the wave that followed the first hint of flooding that she needed to watch; her smile was an inner celebration with the generations of children who were the reason she enjoyed the privilege of teaching the sixth grade at St. Dominique’s school.
The source of the commotion was, to the nun’s surprise, Zacharia Renaude, who had earned, at a price beyond any adult’s understanding, a reputation for being quiet and deferential; she resisted the impulse to smile in secret recognition of the boy’s true nature, a frown was the gavel of her trade and symbol of authority as she prepared to bring order to the class.
Zacharia was looking down at his classmates in the back of the room as they began to file upwards along the four aisles of desks, like mercury in a row of thermometers, only in reverse order to their temperament and personalities; standing now, Sister Cletus could see the six inches of empty space between the floor and the boy’s feet.
He looked up with an expression both sheepish and proud, eyebrows rising in an appeal for approval; the very old nun smiled and said, “Mr. Renuade, if you don’t cease your shenanigans, I will have no choice but to suspend you immediately!”
About clarkscottroger
Still waters run deep.
tru dat
Don’t mess with Sister Cletus, dude.
Nice six, sirs.
thank you, Miz Avery
Your wonderful descriptions put me in place immediately. I loved it but I think Sister Cletus was a bit too quick to suspend.
There actually was a Sister Cletus in real life, many years ago…fourth grade teacher. (She is now a character in my Sister Margaret Ryan stories… if I knew then that I would want to learn to write novel, I know I would have paid attention in English class! lol)
It was Sister Ruth where we were. That young man will go far if he finds his voice.
I kinda like Zacharia (he’s a character in a story I’m working on currently)
Great descriptions. Enjoyed this immensely.
Thanks, Neel
Where’s your sense of humour Sis?
I mentioned in my reply to Irene that there was a Sister Cletus in ‘real’ life… she did not have a sense of humor that I was aware of, at least at the time.
I am learning how to stretch a sentence :) Good work!
thanks Reena
I can imagine Sister Cletus’ practiced ability to be outwardly stern and inwardly laughing.
exactly! (but then again, you already knew something about our Sister Cletus from Blog Dominion)