Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)
This is the Doctrine’s contribution to the Six Sentence Story bloghop.
Hosted by Denise, constrained by a sentence limit (high and low) of six, there are worse ways to spend the remaining time you have on earth.
Prompt word:
SIGNAL
“What the… ”
If, as the popular metaphor maintains, Time is a river, then no one, having stepped into one, will insist the section of flowing water leading to their position is separate and distinct and that the downstream body of water isn’t still the same river; unfortunately for our adventurers on their way to Chicago, a certain Dr. Egmont not only appreciated this all-is-of-one view but capitalized on it when he built his Time Mechanism, designing into it the capability to focus on an individual with the effect of moving them through their personal history.
Rosetta Storme felt her breath hitch as the burn of tears transformed the view through the car’s windshield into a sad and blurry kaleidoscope, a blackhole pulled her down and back in time; asphalt and white lines were replaced with autumn grass and rows of headstones. The hands that gripped the car’s steering wheel became younger, nails without color or polish, a coat of lighter construction than the blue-grey clouds might call for and before her un-mascara’d eyes, a sea of black-on-black-on-sadness showed through on all but the oldest of faces.
As real as the cold November wind ruffling their shrouds, two coffins stood at momentary rest next to a pair of open graves; as the priest droned on in a dead language about senseless killings and the promise of heaven for the benefit of the living gathered in the cemetery, a man in a dark suit stood next to the formally-carefree girl; Rosetta felt her uncle’s presence and dark strength, no words needed other than his turning his left palm forward until Rosetta, taking his hand, signaled she was ready to continue her journey.
“…fuck!?!?!”
Rosetta Storme felt the car drift towards the breakdown lane, successfully regaining control even as the tactile feedback from her hands to her brain changed from the rough skin texture of a hand accustomed to exerting force to one of a leather-wrapped steering wheel in a German luxury sedan.
*
About clarkscottroger
Oh. No. Wouldn’t want to be a passenger in that vehicle.
Seems Dr. Egmont has decided to mess with people and in this case, we know Rosetta not to be just anyone, lol.
Can’t say I’d enjoy someone steering my current in River Time. No wonder this Time Mechanism is on the top 10 wanted list.
this is true… I’m not even Anya is quite prepared for this and/or knows that she’s the only one qualified to possess such a tool
Now that was most interesting. What a strange experience for Rosetta… hmm.
hmm indeed!
will be back with a Café Six later in the day
Wow! Did all this happen between the words WT & F? Very well presented.
thank you, Reena!
Extended lifespan be damned- I am opting for time travel every time! Great six!
thanks… beware the adult-in-the-child’s-body effect on remembered and treasured friendships
Nice description: “a sea of black-on-black-on-sadness” It appears that time machine is real enough to take Rosetta back to the funeral of her parents. Nicely told recollection.
Audi’s are the best time travel machine especially with this music.
Thank you
I knew there was an underlying reason to feel sad for Rosetta, for what she has become. It seems this time mechanism is too powerful for anyone’s good.
I agree (and, yeah, like that stopped anyone…)
wait… a topic?
which of the three would use such a tool and (consistent with the Everything Rule) why
Not the best time for one’s imagination to run wild
agreed unfortunately her acquiescence was not solicited
dang, that was good… heck yeah, i’m in… loved the transfer… chamber brothers, great song… the chicago river flowing right in the middle of town… described it to a ‘T’…. glad i made it by
glad you did too! (that, the Chamber Brothers ‘Time has Come Today’) is a landmark memory… I distinctly remember hearing it the first college station I found (WBRU) when in high school.
damn
hey, MP, here’s a naive question: among other crude techniques I employ when writing fiction (and finding myself all yeah whatever) I go and mine my past. Literally crawl (by now, of course, the fun memories are kinda tapped out) into my past (pre-20s) and find lesser memories to re-live. It’s not so much for content, but for… emotion. somehow, what I then (continue to) write has more…something/emotional content
being into creating happily-soldiered words (poetry) do you find that also true?
Tough exteriors are always a fraction of the whole story, but I reckon Rosetta will show her thorns after this ‘violation of privacy.’
thank you!*
*for a perspective on (this) character that adds to her potential (and our understanding…of her as a ‘person’)
She’s one of my favourites — along with the insane, killer nun, of course.
Insider Info: she (Sister Aclima neé Kayla Sheperd) is the next of our travelers-to-Chicago to be subjected to Dr. Egmont’s experiments
For the benefit of Readers who follow interesting Comment threads: Rosetta and the Sophomore are traveling down the interstate in a rental Audi A7, Sister Aclima is, at the moment, walking through Hell’s Kitchen to meet Brother Lymphocytus and Ian Devereaux is mid-flight all on their way to see …*
*wait a fricken’ minute, I do have a problem (from time to time) with the patriarchy and it’s insidious shading of language, most of us expect to complete the phrase is: the wizard.
But, Anya in not a guy, she is…well, Anya-Claireaux-from-the-Kingdom-of-X Chromia, aiight? but ‘we’re off to see the witch’ is just wrong..
wait, wait! M. you’re a student of Early Paleo linguistics… is the a more appropriate term for our Mz Clarieaux than I can find at the moment? One with the gravitas but can go either way Good and Evil ness, but mostly possessed of a Power beyond the average person.
ya know?
‘ppreciate it
Hmmmmm…
Machiavel; Sibyl; sibylline; Chthonic; Domina; sacerdotal; hieratic (in the sense of its root meaning: intellect, ritual power, emotional distance, ambiguity between good and monstrous) — sort of like “Clarieaux possessed a hieratic stillness that made interruption feel like sacrilege.”
Like that?
thank you… most excellent wordage… (whenever I find myself uninspired, I remind myself that there’s always more (and older) words to say most anything