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.

Previously, in our tale…

Prompt word:

THUNDER

The broad blue afternoon sky conveyed the uncertainty of an uninvited guest to the party-on-the-roof and frowned itself a low-row of dark clouds. Keeping a distance, it mostly hid behind the other buildings in the industrial district; an occasional flash of lightning, ineffectual attempts to announce itself. As a last-ditch effort to be noticed, it produced a distant chorus of thunder.

The tall, thin man stepped backwards through the door to the stairway leading down to the lower floors of the mill building that housed the Six Sentence Café & Bistro. As his left knee accepted the weight of his body, his right leg extended into the stairwell, even as his mind considerately provided an ink and pen drawing of ta’i chi: 捋 (Lǚ).

The Proprietor’s last open-air view was of people surrounding la Raconteuse who, in turn, smiled at friends both new and old, with the kind of wistfulness that spoke of childhood games played out by actors far too old for their parts; only Frank, his head nodding to something or someone unseen, appeared comfortable in the social embrace of the other guests.

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