Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)
This is the time of the week for some creative arranging of words in order to form sentences into a story.
As our host, Denise provides a prompt word and everyone in the blogosphere (I would add, ‘near and far’, however, neither quality holds significant domain o’er this virtual world) to write a story of six (and only six) sentences.
This week the word is:
Fear
“Timmy Williams, report to the Principle’s office immediately, Timothy Williams to the Principle’s office.”
Mrs. Nicolson’s sixth-grade home room was still filling with students, the near-whispers of eleven-year-old boys and girls were divided between enjoyment and dread, the news of a surprise history test mixed through the chatter like chocolate in a marble cake.
Timmy Williams, who always felt a secret pride in getting back to his desk well before the final bell, stared at the alternating green and white squares of the floor, certain that, somehow, they just moved, as it registered that he was that Timothy Williams the adult on loudspeaker was identifying as someone in trouble.
Worse than every face in the room swiveling like compass needles towards him, the final bell still had not rung, which meant both doors to the corridor were wide open; it was not just the twenty-five boys and girls in his class that knew he was in trouble, it was the entire school; passing kids, even Mr. Stevens the janitor, turned to stare into the room.
“Timothy, you are excused,” for a wonderful, if not oddly disconnected second, relief flooded the boy’s world, ‘he’d been excused’ of whatever it was that warranted being called to the Principle’s office; he started to slump back into his seat, a desperate smile pulling at the side of his mouth when, from the back of the class, ‘Lucky jerk gets out of the history test,” he started to protest that he wasn’t ready for the test either, when he realized that everyone was waiting and staring at him.
“The other boy said he saw you at her desk and, no it doesn’t matter who it was, the fact is Mrs. Tremonti’s fountain pen is missing; you are not being accused, however, if you know anything about this, I promise it won’t leave the room,” the principle’s voice was calming and seemed to promise that reason still prevailed, unfortunately his mind produced a very clear memory of looking in the teacher’s in the desk the day before; Timothy Williams felt a flash of freezing-cold static light up his scalp, followed, nearly a second later, by his stomach sinking much farther than it should have been able to move and still remain inside his abdomen.
About clarkscottroger
One’s name, PA system always equals fear!
still remember the rounded square box with the slanted front up on the wall
How i remember that fear, and i didn’t even have a guilty conscience tugging at me when it happened. Well told!
Thanks M
…”mixed through the chatter like chocolate in a marble cake”. Love that line.
I vividly remember the fear in those days of even the possibility of being summoned to the principal’s office! I daresay the same dynamic is not present in current culture.
Enjoyable 6.
I would submit that it remains… because of what it was that caused Timmy’s fear (hint: it wasn’t getting in trouble with the principle)
He will no doubt have difficulty erasing that memory. I wonder if he told the truth, and if his reply was believed.
I liked how you described the chatter in the room, and the faces swiveling like compass needles. Great imagery.
It’s such an ‘un-studied’ world, those years in grade school. most everything kids did they were doing for the first time.
No matter how we behave in the crowd, guilt still resides deep inside and we live in constant fear of being caught. Hope he told the truth.
It was too late for the truth to set him free (it wasn’t about truth, at least not for Timmy)
“flash of freezing-cold static light up his scalp”
Some great imagery in there, and a setting and age group that brings fear to the most stalwart among us.
Thanks D. (one of my favorite joke/literary allusion) yeah little Timmy was a student at William Golding Elementary
“flash of freezing-cold static light up his scalp”
There’s some great imagery in there and a setting and age group that instills fear in the most stalwart among us.
Thought the machine swallowed up my comment so I repeated it and then and then
theres no one trying to mess with our emotions in the internet, no one at all
lol
Good old PA system, striking fear in the hearts of even those who didn’t do anything…
Can still picture it up on the wall,
hey! you gots the time free to do a Six Sentence Duet?
Brought back memories. It wasn’t fear I had when excused of wrong doing – it was anger.
I suspect Timmy had more Clark than Roger to him. Thank you for the story.