Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)
Following is the Doctrine’s contribution to the Unicorn Challenge bloghop
Hosted by jenne and ceayr, the rules are the most minimal: a limit of 250 words for a story. Of course, that presupposes that the minimal doesn’t go all Janus on us, as most of the writers here are of a level of imagination to make ten score and fifty words read like ‘Ulysses’ or ‘War and Peace’.
The world moved.
“No, that’s not bloody possible…”
The expanse of the mown grass on which the man stood resisted any easy reference point to contradict what his eyes, with the increasing collusion of his inner ear, were signaling. For the moment, his brain, with its dry, rational, preemptively superior, ‘cogito, ergo sum’ dismissed what the man in the blue uniform witnessed.
The motion was even, consistent and, were it not for the alternating light-dark stripes marching towards him like a tsunami on a seashore in Flatland, simply not possible.
“Get a grip, mate. Somehow, you’ve been drugged and put in this place. What’s the last thing you remember?”
The man’s rational certitude was rudely interrupted by the first shot of adrenalin tensing his legs. Unsurprisingly, a fight immediately broke out between his higher-order brain and lowly medulla oblongata. In defense of Man’s current state of sophistication, the former was bested only by a classic sucker-punch from the his lower abdomen in a full ‘what-the-fuck’ survival response. Suffice to say, his cerebellum was caught off guard, cynical eyebrow frozen in mid-flight.
The immeasurably vast field of green moved, inexorably, towards him.
The world began to roar. This did nothing to diminish the delusion of the earth moving nor the illusion of motion. He ran.
The last thought his oxygen deprived mind, more picture than words: A boy running with the near weightless stride of youth, outsized sports jersey billowing in response to his cry, “I never want to stop”.