Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)

This is the Six Sentence Story bloghop.

It is hosted by Denise.

Execution according to the Rule of Six: no more, no less than six sentences in a story to be eligible.

Previously, in the Case of the Missing Fig Leaf…

Ian Devereux, a man in a world that barely avoided being intolerable by virtue of its capacity to surprise him, is on his way back to the German town where his client’s ex-husband died. His professional opinion of foul play, bolstered by an interaction with a nun by the name of Sister Aclima, has forced Ian to suppress his instincts to go it alone and accept the aid and assistance of Anya Claireaux, a woman of drive and purpose untethered by conventional social constraints or standards.

Prompt word:

LOST

I knew how it felt to kiss an angel, a genuine, gravity-defying, bliss inducing woman with eyes like suns unsuccessfully restrained by morning’s clouds. This surprised me very little, as the day went from unexpectedly good to supra-naturally pleasant when a text message interrupted the drip-by-drip torture of the TSA gauntlet: ‘Not big on waiting; Go to Gate 13; Sent Omni Corp’s East Coast jet to take you, those two Interpol suits and Miss Whitelaw directly to Wiesbaden; luv A.C.’

As much like a commercial 777 taking off as a Bach cantata is to open auditions for the Blue Man group, the private jet, with only the gentlest of pressure in the leather upholstery, broke through Providence’s grey-solid cloud cover into a sky dark enough to hint at stars.

I was about to ask her name when I felt my seat disappear and my stomach muscles suddenly clench, but not in the good way, as the  G700 drove itself straight down towards the featureless blue sea at Mach .95; provided, that is, the glossy brochure extolling the virtues of Gulfstream’s latest business jet was accurate in terms of top speed.

The plane’s engines howled in heroic electro-mechanical defiance, while the human constituency, lost in unconscious regression to the moment of birth amid cries of effort and triumph, filled the cabin with sounds of surprise and fear at approaching mortality; for my part, I felt the peace and pleasure of real (or imagined) divine congress, my body settled into the eight-way adjustable massaging leather seat as a non-celestial bell-tone signaled a message from the flight deck.

“Sorry about that little impromptu bit of aerobatics, folks, not likely to happen again, but I’d really appreciate it if you’d go ahead and keep your seat belts on; our estimated time of arrival in Wiesbaden remains 4:44 pm

ed note: Being a fan of Ford Mage‘s notes on the writing of a given post, I thought I’d indulge just briefly.  This week it was the music that changed something about the story. By Wednesday midnight I had the action laid out. My challenge* was to create (a) First Person POV reflection on a dramatic series of events. Fine. Worthy goal. My first musical choice was J S Bach ‘Jesus bleibet meine Freude BMW 147‘ And it worked.

(Damn, I forgot to mention: the music I use in my Sixes, more often than not, are as much background music for the writing as it is for the Reading. Sometimes the music will suggest the story, most times the (proper) music encourages it. As it was with the Bach.)

But then, this morning, I sat down to do a polish ‘n post. I remembered the story I’d written but had difficulty seeing Ian in it. Fortunately, half a lyric and a shard of melody popped into my head. Knew the album but not the song title, so naturally I listened to the whole thing. And it was better music for me and this particular story. (Thanks Spira**)

There you have it! A glimpse into the Felliniesque kitchen of the Six Sentence Café and After-hours Bar

* more often or not, while keeping the plot trajectory in mind, I’ll find a challenge for myself, more often than not it boils down to, ‘Can I incite this feeling in the Readers?’ or perhaps merely simple action in parallel with subjective reflection…. surely we all do that prior to writing?

** so, at some point after last week’s Six I saw a comment from Spira that included a reference to Jethro Tull. Apparently those chrome pinballs never stopped moving, ringing bells and lighting lights