Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)
This is the Doctrine’s weakly contribution to the Six Sentence Story bloghop.
Hosted by Denise, subject to the Rule of Six.
Prompt Word:
WIND
…”I’d be twisting the ends of a comically-long mustache and saying, “Or else.”
Closing my eyes, the other senses claimed dominion over my surroundings: first a zephyr of ‘sweet’ (the-way-candy-should-be-but-invariably-disappoints), scent of maple syrup sublimating against the griddle-hot surface of a stack of pancakes; then, a treble-splash of metal utensils against china plates and cups, the subtle assertion of a symphony orchestra tuning up, kitchen-shouted orders and family conversations, all in the key of Eat; finally, from what is surely the most under-rated sense, taste, in the harmonious cacophony of chemosensory exclamations to the brain, at first oleaginous ambrosia of perfectly cooked bacon.
As I’d hoped, this stepping out of my real-time interaction cued up a memory of a now-deceased zen master who, seeing me wind myself up in noetic bindings, would smile and say, “What it is, is all that it is”.
“Listen up, Mr. Peabody,” resisting the impulse to laugh at my erstwhile captor-slash-time-traveler guy’s confusion, I pointed the outside-arc of my coffee mug, first at his face and then, in an enthusiastic pan around the room; bonus from my Achilles’ waving his shield on the plains of Troy.
“The illusion was well done, so well done that the average person would have bought into the whole, ‘We’ve taken you back in time, how scary are we?”
My time traveling captor actually started to fidget and while I was beginning to enjoy his discomfit, I was also starting to get not just a few nostalgia-flashbacks and, in a very real ‘Speak the Truth and Shame the Devil sense, I was getting uncomfortable with long buried memories;
“So, here’s a tip that your script-writers didn’t read their Heinlein:
“Even if possible and time travel were real, you’d of tried this, heard me tell you to go fuck yourself, knew that I meant it and then would’ve decided not to bother at all.”
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About clarkscottroger
After having looked up a few of those words (wow, there’s actually a word for that?), and deciding that this language is not yet dead, I’ll admit that I had a soft spot for Sherman whose dog refused to be called “Dad”.
ikr? the word thing… good thing we’re in the company of confident writers and people and such. I totally enjoy the process of looking up words you and the others deploy in the battle of fictional enticement… lol
Those zen masters come up with amazing nonsense. What it is is all it is, is another one to add to the list.
Thankfully we can’t go back in time. I would not want some of those long buried memories to come back either.
(where’s the darn emoji with one hand (clapping)?!! lol
I wouldn’t want to time travel for real, either. It’s going to be one thing or another, you have to watch yourself make the same mistakes again, or you make new ones!
glad you said that! (I discovered something in a WIP (I know! another WIP?) about time travel that I hadn’t realized… the standard ‘I go back with all the knowledge just inhabiting a young body in the past’ that one… and then I imagined meeting my friends (who are still friends, you guessed it! scott and roger) and remembering what they were like and it dawned on me…If my mind went back it would be awful I would not be able to tolerate much less be friends (they’re 18 and I am …older though in an 18 yo body)
That opening, the description of the diner was flawless. I time traveled back to my own million years as a breakfast waitress and felt totally at home.
Sorry about this, but I can’t get beyond all those gorgeous pancakes… ‘oleaginous ambrosia of perfectly cooked bacon’… mmm.