Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)
This is the Doctrine’s contribution to Doug‘s new bloghop: The M of M.
(You should go check it out! Totally with instructions and a bunch of writers with mad wordage skills. Yeah, and we’re there as well??!)
This week, availing ourselfs of only 250 words, we are, all of us, invited to write a story involving the following prompt:
The best-laid schemes o’ mice an’ men
Gang aft agley (often go astray)
“Measure twice and cut once,” the five-year-old boy looked at his father who stood at the fluorescent-lit workbench, held up a ruler. Both had taken refuge in the basement workshop to escape the house above and the emotional discord waiting where the other half of the family rested.
“Plan your work and work your plan,” the boy, now a college professor, stood at front of the freshman engineering class, looked down at his dimly-lit lectern and smiled, “Failure is the bastard son of building without knowing everything about your materials.”
“And this will be the baby’s room,” smiling abstractly, the young man glanced at the girl at his side. A diamond on her left ring finger reflected light intermittently, as she leaned forward over the LED-lit drafting table.
“Don’t you understand? She is everything to me.”
“My father used to always say, Failure to plan is planning to fail.” Pacing through the flickering light of the church, the groom stared at the man charged with holding the ring and the cell phone. The device came to life with a sound, an unnatural sequence of tones; half musical and half incantation, the new century’s soul-less equivalent of a trusted guardian.
“Is that her?!! Is there anything wrong? No, just read it to me!” The best-man complied, in a tone as stilted as the grammar in world of texting instead of speaking:
“I don’t love you. You never asked me if I did. Sorry to ruin your plans for my life.”