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:
CARD
Being careful not to change my posture or breathing rhythm too drastically, I raised my eyelids just enough to take in the sight of Diane Tierney behind the wheel of the car that hopefully would deliver me back to the Land of the Rational; almost immediately, my attention was highjacked by a wide, granite rectangle approaching on the right side of the road, it’s face, carved lettering: ‘Hobbomock High School’.
Memory is a funny thing.
Were it simply a collection of facts and information, it would be both manageable and efficient, unfortunately it is anything but; memory/memories are less an old-fashioned library’s card catalog and more like a Busch Gardens zoo with an aggressively incompetent staff consisting of manic-depressive animal trainers, hebephrenic tour guides and exhibitions that, at random intervals, lowered the fences separating wild animals from feral humans.
This is especially true of memories created in the years separating childhood from adulthood, the scorched-earth, psycho-social battleground known as adolescence.
“You’re coming down, that’s good,” Diane’s voice was a synthesis of concern, curiosity and genuine affection; overcoming my obsessive desire for privacy, I decided to not be selfish and responded,
“That’s the hellhole where I endured four years of socialized torture, aka my old high school.”
She laughed, “Well I, for one, am glad you survived.”