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:

STOP

“Wait, stop!”

The (much) younger of the two men turned with a practiced calmness that spoke not only of having heard this request before, but served as an umlaut on his non-verbal voice and a smile devoid of condescension, pity, strained patience or any of the myriad other ways society teaches it’s members to defend against unsolicited need.

“Don’t get me wrong, I believe what I believe, including such things as angels and other supernatural agencies…but one minute ago my life was a minor symphony arranged for bedside monitors in the key of ECG and EEG now, I’m here,” the older man smoothed out the folds of his sports coat with hands mottled with iv ports and injection bruises.

Smiling with a mix of intensity and whimsy, the man said, “You are here per your most recent wish which, I remind you, was ‘To understand how Time changes as we grow old.”

With a nod towards a stream running through a dense forest, it’s rough gravel shore protecting the exposed roots shading clean water, agitated into rounded wavelets that stumbled over the rocky bottom which, in turn, pushed back against the flow.

The older man realized he was barefoot, tailored trousers rolled up to the knee and hearing the bubbling water, began to wade into the flow; sharply edged smaller rocks triggered nerve trills up over his ankles, the brisk cold of water mixed with the blood-warmed soles of his feet and he laughed as his time-clogged senses were washed down the river and seeing he was now alone, crossed to the other shore.

*