Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)
This is the Six Sentence Story bloghop
Hosted by Denise
Guided by the single numerologic principle: Six and only Six sentences make it a Six Sentence Story
This week we rejoin Ian Devereaux in the serial mystery, ‘the Case of the Missing Fig Leaf‘
This week’s prompt word:
Plow
“Kvatsch!”
Skittering over the macadam like water on an overheated frying pan, we were being overtaken by a dark black truck with smoked-out windows; my police liaison, Detective-Captain Anton Rilke stared into the rearview mirror with a look that made me think of Wagner and Heidelberg scars, as he aimed our car towards the Rhine River, still some distance below the Eibingen Abbey, the St Christopher’s medal on the mirror swayed like a clocktower pendulum during a 7.4 scale earthquake.
I was grateful the high-performance tires squealed loudly enough to cover my own, as the roadway took a sudden, hard left turn.
Anton’s right arm, like a bespoke tree trunk, suddenly obscured my view of the forest that fell off on the right, as I heard him say, “Window, bitte,” followed by the concussive bark of his service revolver; almost parallel on my side, the truck suddenly climbed the guardrail and disappeared into the void; that we barely slowed down told me much about my host’s views of police procedure, at least when it comes to attempted murder.
“Henry Poole & Company, 15 Savile Row,” he said, returning the gun to it’s holster, briefly touching the sleeve of his suit coat before returning his hand to three o’clock on the wheel; “For a man of my size, the tailors there, they are like the first older woman we fall in love with, despite our fear, we trust them and they never fail to make us look like the man we’re hoping the world sees.”
My return smile acknowledged a memory of such a relationship, when I was of college age and the number of both rough edges and newly-sprouted interests grew daily; my own Will had as little effect on her leaving as the dirt of a new field can resist the temporary destruction of the plow.
About clarkscottroger
Well paced scene.
Sentence 2. Nice to see a male protagonist be totally honest about his not so manly reaction to the intensity of his situation. Made me laugh.
Enjoyed Det. Rilke’s analogy regarding his tailors.
And so we are left saying… WTH?! Who’s after them?
TY
them rascal from the Abbey, a course!
yeah, Ian ain’t afraid of being amusing
That St Christopher’s Medal came in handy. And the service revolver. I probably would have gone into the void with that truck. I like the description of those older women making “us look like the man we’re hoping the world sees”.
the sage (serial) continues… Anton Rilke is becoming less and less, Sgt Schultz-like, a grave wisdom is becoming more apparent in our Detective Captain
Excellent similes!
Thank you, Romi
I love the pace and tone of this. It plays like an old movie in my head.
yeah, for what it’s worth, it’s all about trying to describe the movie in my head… (though I’d of liked to have had more space (or more talent) to describe the landscape as the two automobiles raced down to the lowlands)
This was quite the white-knuckle SSS! Very dramatic and descriptive scenes. You also sent me to the dictionary a couple of times, so thanks again teacher.
lol thanks Pat
(took certain liberties with the spelling of the opening statement… Kvatsch is actually the phonetical form of the word ‘Quatsch’ funny about the human mind, thought I found plenty of other exclamatory German phrases, this one, I remember from high school German class… Mr. Gardner our ex-POW German teacher would use it one rare occasion …strictly for emphasis.)
Gripping! 🥴
I loved the imagery of this 6.
The imagery was dynamic making for a wild “ride”!
Thanks, Susan
ahhh. a wise man who appreciates the older woman. good six.
thank you
Whew, what a ride! Well done.
Thanks, M!
Your gift for description is nonpareil, sets the bar high.
Thankee, M. Morrow
“I was grateful the high-performance tires squealed loudly enough to cover my own, as the roadway took a sudden, hard left turn.” Sweet!
ty JL!
Man, when something starts as good as: “Kvatsch!” Skittering over the macadam like water on an overheated frying pan…
you know the writer had better not disappoint with what follows.
Luckily, you didn’t disappoint.
That was one heck of an intense white knuckle ride. And you ended perfectly on the prompt word.
Phew. And… breathe out…
Top Sixing, sir!
Thanks, V.
Totally lucked out with the prompt word position*.
* how lucky? (don’t tell anyone, but) the word had to be subconscious, ’cause on one of the final edits, I was all, ‘hokey smoke!’ there’s the week’s prompt word!
Seat edging quality work!
Thanks, Lisa