Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)
This is the Doctrine’s Six Sentence Story for this week.
Denise is the host.
Prompt word:
STRUCTURE
“Ethan’s eyes are just fine, about as close to normal as we might expect for a seven-year-old boy, both in the structure and function of what arguably is the most critical of the senses,” Dr. Magliano smiled at the boy’s mother, holding the manila patient folder, as close to a Bible as wielded by any priest or minister in the throes of helping a young couple join into a life together or a pair of life-worn spouses needing assistance to cast loose the lines that bound one to the other.
The woman smiled down at the boy, the words neither negative nor alarming in content or tone; then, as if suddenly aware of her unguarded happiness, looked back at the ophthalmologist, raised an eyebrow but lowered her gaze, supplication prior to final benediction.
“He does, however, show signs of a slight astigmatism, just the beginning of a deviance in the receptors that filter out the abnormal parts of the spectrum.”
Ethan, being careful to stand at a point between the doctor and his mother, hedged his position by staring at the floor of the waiting room, confident in his ability to gauge the increasingly critical negotiations between the woman, (who with a casual movement touched the boy’s shoulder in a way reminiscent, if one were of such an inclination, of a drawbridge being raised), and the man who wore a spotless white coat in complete disregard of the fact of it being October.
“Nothing to worry about,” the smile on the eye doctor’s face was professional and, in the woman’s estimation, not entirely insincere, “With a pair of corrective lens, we can nip this in the bud and spare him the disability that comes with vision that is not limited to the statistical norm.”
Crossing the parking lot, Ethan scuffed leaves that had, with the non-lethal October breeze, begun to drift up against the curbstones and walkways, when he heard and saw two things: a shower of parchment-dry color, like butterscotch confetti mixed with fire engine red polygons raining down on his head and the happy laughter of his mother, “Yeah, like we’re gonna let them correct our view of the world;” he laughed in relief and she in defiance.
*
About clarkscottroger
Most excellent.
ty
“…he laughed in relief and she in defiance.”
H yeah!!
(What Denise said.)
heck yeah!
Perfect example of the difference
Thanks, Paul
I like Ethan and his mother’s defiance against those who would want to correct their view of the world.
Thanks, Frank. It’s good when the inner lives of our characters are accessible to the Reader
Nice one, Clark. Seems like mother and son are, my glass is half full, kind of people.
ty, len
I’ll bet (or, at minimum, they want to be*)
* unfortunately not always able to present it so
It definitely feels as though we are all having our eyesight ‘tampered with’ these days from the constant media barrage of talking points suggesting we believe what they say, not what we see. I hope that ‘thread’ of meaning was part of your intended message. Otherwise, I’m thinking too much again! Great piece, and as always, so well described!
good point. Your comment serves to remind me to be as protective of my energies as my friends… the (current) world seems to want to get me to waste my time and energy on matters that not only are beyond my direct control, they are not even framed in such manner that to try is not to fail… conscious disengagement of socio-cultural connects is very often the most positive of efforts to navigate the day.
Yeah, what’s normal anyway?
We need a bit of mayhem and chaos in life.
(Sorry, Clark, for not commenting or answering comments for the past couple of weeks. My computer did not take kindly to having a cup of herbal tea spilled over it and decided to retire – permanently! I’m catching up….)
Dude(tte)!
about the ‘here, a little sip, Miz Computer and you’ll be right as dodgers’ aiiyee surely akin to a horrible reversal of Paul of Tarsus mishap… only with a laptop instead of a horsie’
or something… lol
“Correcting ” his vision would be like “correcting” my Bigger Girl’s hyperacute hearing, she would no longer be quite herself.
tru dat
Didn’t have a clue where this was going until that fine ending. And the line: “a shower of parchment-dry color, like butterscotch confetti mixed with fire engine red polygons raining down on his head” is magical!
thanks, Ford
(Don’t tell anyone, but the Six sprang from that particular description.. weird how the mind works, am I right?”
Well, Clarkio, I actually liked this.
I thought it was a very good story.
That’s it, no poking fun, nuttin’ else…
thank you, c