Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)
This is the Six Sentence Story blog hop
Denise is the host
You owe it to yourself to click/enlarge the photo above
This week’s prompt word:
EDGE
The band, on the first night of live music following the fire, was clearly new, both to the venue and as a combo; four college students with a set list of such aggressive diversity that it would take a miracle for the group to last more than three gigs; the Sophomore liked them from the first note of their power ballad rendition of a Beatles classic.
The Café was almost crowded, his path to the sole empty table in the main room was as serpentine as his efforts to make a decision to share what he knew about the burglary of the one place he’d come to feel at home; for the young man with the old eyes, sitting alone in the middle of a club full of people and high-volume music created a feeling of quietude and privacy.
Seeking to bridge the life he remembered and the life he was living, the college-aged student wrote in blue ink from a cheap pen on the medium quality paper of a composition notebook, one page titled ‘Stacy’, the second, nearly complete, had ‘Nick’ on the top line; a subtle change in the air heralded the appearance of one of the Proprietors.
“One of my fondest childhood memories was one rainy September day when my mother brought a box down from the attic and showed me the stories she wrote when she was a girl, they were written, long-hand in black-and-white covered composition books, just like that one,” Despite being short enough to need the rung of the stool when sitting at the bar, Mimi gave the impression of a teacher helping a favored, but troubled, pupil.
Seeing his fingers begin to curl over the top edge of the book, Mimi smiled, “No worries, mon ciel étoilé, your secret is safe with me.”
The band was just singing, ‘Where do they all belong‘, when, from the far end of the Café, voices cut through the music, joy and relief filling cartoon dialogue balloons, “Nick… the Gatekeeper…he’s back’…let me buy you a drink’; despite the ninety decibel music, the Sophomore heard Mimi whisper, “I’ll see that Nick gets your letter and your lady friend as well, now go, mon ami.”
About clarkscottroger
First of all, thank you for the beautiful scene of the return of the Prodigal Gatekeeper!
Will be waiting for Mimi to deliver that letter.
And…
…remember the coupled oscillators metaphor?
I read Question or Answer and by the time I finished commenting at Denise’s story, here you come.
The parallels are subtle yet existing nonetheless.
Some may say it is chance; I beg to differ.
Very well done!
The story continues with glorious synchronicity…
ikr?
Thanks Nick
This is all becoming way more than I would have imagined. Very cool and very challenging. We all have done the writing imaginative fiction and some of us, (Chris and I believe Ford and maybe Jenne) have put their stories out in the world manifested in paper and ink (digital or dripping)… but this combined world… there’s something about it that makes it’s reality more persistent than that of any one writer’s efforts.
And, by virtue of it existing apart from us (in a sense) that frees us to explore as opposed to create and then consider exploring
or something like that
Good to see things are getting back to normal, Clark. And heard whispers over loud music always convey more than just what is said!
I venture to say normal for thems what hang out at certain Bistro might not be likely to win ‘Most Likely to Succeed’ from the high school student body
LOL
Shows just what the high school student body know! We all succeed in our own ways! 🙂
interesting observation…
Nice description making me wonder where the edge of being crowded could possibly be: “almost crowded”.
I suspect it refers to the individuals standards for ‘too many people in too small a space’? always subjective, ya know?
i’ve missed reading your stuff. between the muscle relaxers and the PAIN, i’m been off the grid
take your time getting back but if you want to do a ‘walk-on’
I like how you describe a virtual world with such touching details that the imaginary becomes real.
Thank you.
It was actually my grandmother’s stories and poems, and it’s not the first time i’ve played courier.