Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)
How is it already Wednesday?
Well, it is. That makes tomorrow Thursday and we all know what that means. It means that its time for this week’s Six Sentence Story.
Each and every week, our host, Denise, provides us with a ‘prompt word’. Our job is to write a story, six sentences in length, that involves this word. Then we post it on her site. (In the little blue rectangle that is labelled ‘Click to view and add your Links’.) Then make the rounds of the other Sixes. Pretty simple, isn’t it?
(This week’s Six is from the first of the stories in the upcoming ‘Hobbomock Chronicles’ YA series.)
This week the word is:
Explain
Walking through the old part of downtown Hobbomock, past the small shops stuck side-by-side like books on a shelf, their identities gilt-painted on plate-glass windows, Jacob William Hazard thought he might be in a good mood. He’d finished all his homework, raked the leaves and managed to get out of the house before his father could think of anything else for him to do on this, October-going-on-August, Saturday afternoon.
“Permit me to explain your weekend assignment,” Ted Berman said, one minute before the end of last period Civics class the day before, “you can write a ten page paper on the Electoral College, or you can…” he waited for the susurrus of unhappy adolescents to subside, “…or tomorrow you can attend our fair town’s Annual Huck Finn Day, watch the politicians hustle votes for the up-coming election and report back to the class next Tuesday.”
Standing on the sidewalk in front of his favorite store, ‘Tomes Tomb’ Used and Old Books, Jacob smiled as he watched the parents and small children in the park; ‘people aren’t that bad’, he thought, ‘they’re telling me their whole life story while maintaining a polite distance’.
Idling along Old Main Street, an antique convertible with banners that proclaimed,”Elect Bill McKinley, he won’t do anything bad,” and just behind it, a not-very-old man walked, smiling and shaking as many hands as he could harvest from the people on the sidewalk.
The man-who-would-be-Mayor, William R McKinley, resumed his very public stroll after kissing a baby held out by a somewhat nervous young woman, when Jacob heard someone say, “what the hell?”; from the corner of his eye he saw the candidate fall to the pavement, head hitting the road harder than anyone would let happen, at least without being unconscious or dead.
