Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)
Below is the Wakefield Doctrine’s contribution to the Six Sentence Story bloghop.
It, (the bloghop, not the story), is hosted by Denise every Thursday. Her rules are simplest: using the week’s prompt word, write a story comprised of six (and only six) sentences and link it up.
This week the prompt is:
SCRIBE
“Hey, I know that place,” Stacey Whitelaw threw herself between Anton and me as we sat in Lufthansa’s First Class Lounge,
“I spent a fricken week there one night, after acing my LSATs,” looking up at the German police officer she rolled her eyes, defiant pride mixed with an eagerness to be accepted; an endearing quality found in some young adults and most of the larger dog breeds.
Detective Captain Anton Rilke beamed down at her interruption like a favorite uncle, as Stacey elaborated, “It’s about the coolest bar, café, whatever, in the city and hardly anyone knows it’s even there, I’m impressed that you’ve been there, Ian,” I laughed to short-circuit a flash of pride at her left-handed compliment.
Anton and I, waiting for the early flight to Eibingen, were engaged in a friendly round of travel poker, as in ‘I’ll see your romantic encounter on the observation deck of the Eiffel Tower, and raise you being held captive by the head of a secret society in an abandoned storefront in Whitechapel’; her attention on my companion, she continued, “So, it’s down an alley off a street in a medium shady part of town, when you get close enough, the neon sign over the door makes the brick walls look they’re covered in blood, instead of graffiti describing at least three of the seven deadly sins, but the people inside, they’re the reason I’ve been working up the nerve to go back.”
Somewhere discreet, with the slightest of hi-fidelity echo, ‘Flight 444 for Eibingen, now boarding‘ informed us of the next stage in our day was beginning; I must have looked surprised when Stacey stood, “Hey, didja think you and Sgt. Schultz here could go off on a field-trip without me?”
Linking her arms through both of ours, Stacey steered us towards the gate, “I know, Anton here is a shoe-in for a medieval monk; you, Sherlock, the knight errant and I’ll be your faithful scribe, lets go roust us some homicidal nuns!”
About clarkscottroger
Awesome job. Excellent six and use of the cue
Thanks, Paul!
Nice tug on the emotions.
Thank you.
This Sixville address never disappoints. Always food in the fridge, a sumptuous array of fun characters and delectable descriptions.
Thankee Miz Avery
It’s always fun having a virtual, metaphorical hangout
I like how Stacey rounded them up to go roast some homicidal nuns.
She does seem to have taken charge of the situation, no?
Can we keep her, Dad? Huh? Can we?
lol
I’m liking our Miss Whitelaw the more I hear from her.
“…down an alley off a street in a medium shady part of town,” my kinda joint. Love the way the story is progressing, Clark, ending on an excellent high note!
Thanks, Chris. this one was fun in how it turned out*
*the real fun is in the contrast between what you think you have when you’re about 1/3 through the writing and when you read the comments
Sentence 2! If ever we were unclear about Stacey, lol. Utterly delightful and fun Six :)
P.S. Laughed at Mimi’s comment. Yeah, can we? 😁
lol
she’s been through a lot, but I bet we see more of Stacey
‘I spent a frickin week there one night…’
‘.. in some young adults and most of the larger dog breeds.’
Have I said this before? I love the joy you have in playing with words.
it is fun