Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)
This is the Wakefield Doctrines’ contribution to the Six Sentence Story bloghop
Denise is the host.
The prompt word:
SPACE
Alone in the kitchen, the shapeless reflections of the overhead fluorescent lights on the stainless steel surface gamely stepping up as urban sunsets, the tall, thin man untied the string securing the two slightly-glossy pastry boxes and arrayed their contents on a pair of glass platters; kiffles in a short, very orderly row were offset by the glaze-shiny elephant ears flanked by white-dusted bear claws; the second platter was reserved for the rank-and-file pastries, three cup cakes, four filled donuts and two lemon squares.
Keying off the self-important rumblings of the coffee urn, the Proprietor backed out through the double-swinging doors, Fred sans Ginger, in three ‘Roll Aways To A Half Sashay’ until everything was laidout on the end of the bar farthest from the Café’s entrance, the exterior of the door currently sporting a ‘Closed for Inventory’ sign.
Setting a china mug, SSC&B in gold leaf along its top edge, in front of Mimi, he nodded acknowledgement of her raising the cup in thanks, turned slightly to his left and looked down the room towards the focal point of the main room.
Nick and Denise were standing at the front edge of the stage, a brief flash of light from the ride cymbal brought Ford into view; knowing that Chris was still in Nepal, the man wearing an apron and an expression of being at peace for the moment, glanced towards a dark alcove set into the street-side wall, like travel through interstellar space he trusted his sense of where Jenne’s eyes would be once his smile reached her.
Calling out, in a voice both hesitant and excited, “Nick, perhaps you could put that fine-looking ’57 Precision to some use and conjure up something with a classical feel without putting a body to sleep?”
Putting his cigar down on the long edge of the 2×12 Bassman bottom, the bearded man nodded to Denise who, somehow, had a flute in her hands and played a series of notes that transported the tall, thin man back at least forty years in time.
*
About clarkscottroger
This Six has it all; characters, setting, pastries, and classically groovy music. Huzzah!
Thankee, Miz A’vry
You are gifted with a keen observation of detail, and enviable vocabulary.
Thank you
My first thought was that this is probably as pretentious as a Six Sentence Story can get but, on reflection, I feel pretty sure you’ll prove me wrong.
Go for it, big boy…
Funny, my first thought was, ‘Fine but what’s the point of this ‘story” and I was, all, ‘Who the heck said it had to have a fricken inciting incident, a Hero’s Journey or a Narrative Arc that ends with the characters changed somehow?’
‘Yeah but…’
‘No buts, about it, this Six Sentence Story is still about the same thing as it was in 2009 when you looked up and realized that every one around you in the virtual world had skills, they all wrote good. And, at the risk of a contrived dialogue device (not to mention an extraordinarily high level of risk of being read as pretentious…) how do I expect to spread the word about the value and fun of the perspective afforded by the Wakefield Doctrine if I’m writing like a six grade boy in the middle of his first acne flareup? How?’
“We suppose you have a point”
“Back to 3rd person? There you go, now get back to the keyboard and keep practicin'”
Thanks c… it (this Six) was fun if for no other reason than it gave me an excuse to paste a wonderful music vid…. Hey!, speaking of useless, I might mention you (obliquely) in a second Six this week. Now that you have me thinking: writing exercise, pointless and pretentious…. check, check and total check.
;p
I like your reminder of how just a few notes of music can stimulate memories and transport one back in time.
thanks, Frank (it’s amazing no?)
One of my fav Jethro Tull tunes, and that’s saying a lot! Have you seen the video of Ian Anderson playing the bouree in tree pose? Wow!
Wonderful Six, as well. Sets a vividly cozy mood.
It looks like the lines are drawn! lol
One side: wonderful music from Mr. Tull; a story driven by a desperation ambition to capture some of the soullessly-detailed, ponderous and hypo-humorous style of a Doyle or, if over the age of thirteen, maybe Gray
the other side: people who don’t like elephant ears!!
;]
Nice. (make sure read that italicized, eh)
I love that I can visualize the scene vividly – the interior of the Café, the tall, thin man setting up the pastries (hoped they saved an elephant ear and bear claw for Denise).
The atmosphere, palpable, from Mimi’s nod… to, and I love this, “… knowing like travel through interstellar space he trusted his sense of where Jenne’s eyes would be once his smile reached her.” (you’re a damn secret poet)
I’ll go out on a limb and say I’m certain the 3 on stage had a very enjoyable time.
Jethro Tull? Seriously? I suppose pretentious foppery was all the rage once. Try to rise above it, clark. :-)
I’m sorry Doug, I can’t do that… (lol) While I wouldn’t buy every album Aqualung would be in my record rack, had I a record player or a rack in file my albums
Sometimes a scene, a quiet moment shared, is the point.
Yes ’em
Tull was terrriffic! Foppery nevver fades! unlike my pictures from the 1970s
lol I think I still have a pair of bell bottom pants.. (no, not really, that would be grounds for divorce in pretty much every State)