Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)
This is the Six Sentence Story bloghop. Hosted by Denise, it is simplicity itself. Take the prompt word of the week and fashion a story exactly six sentences in total length.
Pretty simple, isn’t it?
(This week’s post is as much homework/practice as it is story-telling. The story-world is that of Home and Heart, a Sister Margaret Ryan story and the first character, the antagonist in that WIP)
Howl
The CEO of the Bernebau Company was described in an (un-authorized) bio, as presenting, ‘as noble a bearing as any fallen angel in the Old Testament’; fit and trim, with a broad forehead lined only enough to remind the other person that looks weren’t everything, he wielded a smile at once charming, with an option on sardonic.
It is said the eyes are the windows to the soul; Cyrus St. Loreto’s eyes offered a view of a primordial veldt where life, struggling to gain a foothold, constantly succumbed to its own insatiable hunger.
As he approached the lobby of his building, the doorman stepped forward, reaching for the brass handle.
Peter Fishman wore his uniform with a stoicism reserved for those pre-occupied with finding the silver lining in a life of repentance; his thirty year love affair with the bottle erased an academic career, removed a loving family and left him with a pulse and a mind that woke up each morning hoping it was still dreaming.
Finding himself staring into Cyrus St Loreto’s eyes, his mind offered a distant voice from a life left behind, “I saw the best minds of my generation…” even as the image of smoke and coffee houses pulled at his mind, another elbowed it aside, a younger, more joyfully cynical voice, “You hear him howling around your kitchen door, You better not let him in.”
The former dean of philosophy and comparative religion waited until the man was at the elevator before making the sign of the cross; the flush of self-consciousness at his effort to ward off evil was replaced by a quiet certainty, as a part of himself he would have sworn was dead, whispered that everything would work out for the best.