Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)

This is the Doctrine’s weakly contribution to the Unicorn Challenge bloghop.

Hosted by jenne and ceayr, subject to the Rule of Two Hunnert fity (word limit)

The man stopped.

The russet field of stack-bond bricks created a broad sidewalk while still allowing for the decades-aged trees to make one last annular lunge for the sun. In a blurring of perception, he felt rather more than saw, both altar and creche, silent in the early morning hours.

There was, for that moment, no sound other than that of nature. Birds chirped with their insanely optimistic morning songs. There was, for the man, something alien in the carefree optimism of their repetition, clearly intended as a signal yet devoid of even a hint of a riposte of relief at being acknowledged. Of man, other than the inert metal ambitions resting on wheels that resisted the natural pull of the earth, nothing.

He took off his overcoat and laid it on the ground to his right. Then, after opening his Louis Vuitton business card holder, (quite expensive, very impressive), took one and, returning the leather holder to his suit coat pocket, removed the remainder of his clothing.

Placing the card on the neatly folded stack, he read, lips moving in unthought liturgy: his name, gold foil-embossed, and title: Narrator (and beneath, in italics), (Reliability Guarenteed)

He turned and approached the tree, allowing his thoughts to dissolve into emotion and from there, animal impulse.

His last coherent thought was,

‘My god, Woody Allen was right!’

(*Language Advisory*)