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

This is the Wakefield Doctrine’s contribution to the Six Sentence Story bloghop.

Hosted by Denise, there is one rule: Six (no more, no less) Sentenceses to the story.

Previously, in our serial story…

Prompt word:

FLAKE

“Hello….?”

The interior of the Six Sentence Cafe & Bistro is of a design quite simple, a decor elegantly plain and possessed of a functionality that has been studied and debated, argued and analyzed by sociologists and event planners across the globe since the Proprietors opened its door.

At the present moment, the semi-dark Café manifested the eternal bartender’s admonition that “… but you can’t stay here.”

“Oh jeez louise, the party is over and you’re closed,” the voice, issuing from a point between the ruby-neon shore of light on the end of the bar nearest the door, was a rich blend of wistful sorrow, habitual calm and yet, beneath it lurked a contralto suited to threats and promises without restraint.

Like the flakiest of croissants or some other pastry that makes one ignore a contrived simile, the voices in the near-dawn dark offered a cocktail of counsel and consolation, “Sorry ma cheri, but hold you on that invitation, we always looking for an excuse to have interesting guest”; “Word,” this last from the Bartender leaning against the shelves of liquor, sparks of light bouncing among the colored bottles, “You got a name?”

“Violet. Simply, Violet…”

To the surprise of no one, Mimi smiled and Chris laughed and Nick blew a cloud of smoke at the ceiling and Denise leaned on the long, polished bar.

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