Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)
This is the Six Sentence Story bloghop.
Denise is the host.
Previously in the Whitechapel Interlude…
Two young people, a land that held the darkness inherent in nature close to it’s bosom and an ageless man who thrived on the former and sustained by the latter, drew closer together, as the tide to the shore. The approaching meeting of the three was to the benefit of many, at a price to the few.
This week’s prompt word:
FOUNTAIN
The fountain, ornate rings of carved basalt stacked in the center of the courtyard, exerted silent control on all visitors to Castle Noctis Ostium by virtue of it’s location; those from without, brandishing ambitions to march straight into the marble-arched entrance, as well as those who would flee the darkness within the towering castle, seeking to out-run their terror and despair were stopped and directed to trace a silent arc around the jet of water, before being permitted to realize their fate; this indefinable piece of a circle was the terminus for the carriage carrying two emissaries from the Order of Lilith.
Gathering his determination to make his superiors proud, which in young men often is manifested in moving before introspection can spoil the moment, Anselm jumped from the carriage even before the final wooden wheel spoke could strike twelve, finding himself one step behind the coachman who, mute through the two day journey, was standing in front of his team of horses, whispering praise and assurance, sibilants shaped into foreign words that tumbled from each stroke along their withers, spilling to the cobblestones like the secret nods between war veterans, long since returned from battle.
Sarah, with the impatience of a child who has dutifully practiced exercises at the piano, stepped from the carriage seeking someone or something to make the previous two days of boredom justifiable, pent-up energy expressed in all the ways people, especially the young, connect to the world; smiling at the servants, walking towards the dark-carved doors, one hand sampling the texture of the carved-marble and silently-entwined ivy; without a glance back to her companion, she was an arm’s length and a chaste embrace from the doors when Count St. Loreto stepped out into the courtyard.
As much the good host as the lord of the manor noting the enthusiasm of emissaries sent on a diplomatic mission, Cyrus St. Loreto stood in the shadow of his castle and waited; there was a solemnity in his stance that echoed ancient priests before crowds of supplicants, recognizing the balance of power between the guest and host.
Anselm hesitated and frowned; Sarah moved forward, a smile distracting the unwary or inexperienced from her eyes, as both turned to face the man they crossed the Continent to meet; Count St. Loreto stood with a stillness and composure that, were one in a state of mind to note it, resulted in the distinction between the stone and glass structure rising behind him to become less distinct, as if he was an extension of the castle more than it’s occupant.
“Welcome, my young friends, allow me to make you my guests; your trip has been long, my staff will show you to your rooms and tonight we will dine.”
About clarkscottroger
you always pack so much into these sixes. I am jealous. good one.
Thanks, Paul The feeling is mutual. I really dig the economy-of-style that you do (especially with your current Serial Six).
…alright, I’m convinced! We need to do a walk-on something.
Probably should be ‘the Case of the Missing Leaf’, so your character won’t have to drive so far (or, for that matter, travel in time).
We just got to think of a premise for someone from your part of the country to be in Ian’s. (Just spit-ballin’ here but as much as I enjoy the wide-screen prose of Whitechapel, the fun is in the effort to write like Raymond Chandler.)
let me know
Very entertaining, and just a little suspenseful.
Thank you.
Wonderful build up, Clark! I can’t wait to see inside the castle. I’m already conjuring up images from ‘The Mysteries of Udolpho’…
Thanks, Chris!
(Just looked up The Mysteries of Udolpho… if only! lol)
Cyrus St. Loreto is a character who first showed up in a WIP (part of a Sister Margaret Ryan mystery*) and I’m almost as fond of him as I am of Lou Caesare. Funny about characters like that.
Since this Cyrus is head of a multi-national, the Bernebau Company I know it’s the same character. (We can’t be sure to what extent Cyrus has any supernatural qualities. But, equally, we can’t be sure he doesn’t)
Was standing in 3D. Excellent setup/scene.
Enjoyed musical accompaniment (but not this cliffhanger ending, lol)
I like the description of the Count as an extension of the castle rather than its occupant. I also liked your description of the fountain blocking the way of those marching in or those in terror rushing out.
Thanks, Frank I too enjoyed the visual that a fountain thats centered between an outer gate and the main entrance, serving a less obvious purpose than mere decoration.
Don’t forget to take this Count into account.
lol (only one of his titles down through the ages)
A great photo to go with this episode.
Something that caught my attention was, “Sarah moved forward, a smile distracting the unwary or inexperienced from her eyes.” I need to learn more about Sarah’s intentions.
In the final line, I wondered if perhaps there might be a double meaning to “my staff will show you to your rooms.” Will Anselm and Sarah find themselves wanting to out-run their terror within the darkness of the castle or will they be contributing to the terror within?
excellent thought (the idea of how Anselm and Sarah might respond to their first night in the castle).
of course, Sarah is a bit more complicated than she might appear, what with a hunter demon occupying a portion of her mind.
Such great descriptions and insights into human nature – as well as the suspense of the story!
thanks, j
Loved the contrast between the young travelers and the Count, the comparison of the castle and the Count.
I can count on you to continue this tale!
Not to court further compliments, you can count on us!
“even before the final wooden wheel spoke could strike twelve” – the jump from Anselm to the coach driver and his team of horses makes sentence #2 my favourite.
The castle description and youth meeting antiquity is powerful, and we’re left with what could be a very intersting dinner this evening!
therein the challenge (and, perhaps some of the lost pleasure) of our chosen formats*
I did enjoy the sense of risk for the whatever-the-term-in-rhetoric… metaphor, I think, but who the hell knows… hey I’ll betcha ceymour would know… whatever
It, the metaphor, not Ceymour, was one of those purely visual things. The image came before the words. And then, the decision to throw it out there trusting it was durable enough to make an impression on the Reader.
Were we not all, collectively, Counts of Montesexto, I would have spent a paragraph (or three) on the the whole, coming to a stop and what about the way those horses are, like, totally freaking out? scene. Hell, if the coachman isn’t a trope (or is that meme) for this scenario…
*from the Godfather II (Hyman Roth to Michael Corleone)