the Wakefield Doctrine

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, this ‘hop has but one rule: Six is the number of sentenceseses in your story, aiight?

So, this week, Tom and I close out our Serial Six ‘…Of Heroes and the MisUnderstood’.

To enhance the continuity, here is Tom’s Six read it first.

Prompt word:

DOUBLE

“Bon nuit, mon ami.”

The tall, thin man stepped to one of two stools at the bar nearest the half-darkened hallway; a woman in a floral dress that, in design, yelled Kmart, in construction and drape, whispered Chanel; her Dolce & Gabbana running shoes toe-hooked on the chair’s middle cross rail.

“Cher,”

At the precise moment Mimi smiled her acknowledgement, a young woman in the middle of the crowded Café just happened to glance up and, caught in the older woman’s gaze, smiled in a reflex that pulled at something within her; a secret sadness somehow exposed to light vanished and replaced with a doubled resolve to turn her life around, starting with going to the ladies room and leaving the overly self-assured man opposite her to his own devices.

‘Busy night.”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

Patting his hand, a synthesis of every athletic coach pep talk, Drill Instructor invective-studded harangue and good friend’s hug, she up-nodded towards the main entrance,

“Nick is doing well, but what we need is Tom to transition here from whatever dimension he’s presently occupying; folks getting hungry, all envie; now go and do your job.”

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, this ‘hop has but one rule: Six is the number of sentenceseses in your story, aiight?

So, this week, Tom and I close out our Serial Six ‘…Of Heroes and the MisUnderstood’.

To enhance your enjoyment and supplant with narrative continuity, here is Tom’s Six read it first.

Prompt word:

DOUBLE

“Dude!”

The Sophomore levered himself into the Manager’s office, one hand and upper arm against the in-swinging door, opposite hand and leg extending, like an animated folding rule. His forward momentum and worn-sole loafers wrestled to a draw at the single wooden chair. The desk that provided meaning, context and utility to the chair, was cluttered in a manner to cause any reasonable observer to think: ‘Double Slit Experiment’; except that manila folders and cigarette burns in the oak top stood in for particles and waves. On the far edge of the incandescent-yellow pool of light, the tall, thin man sat, a still-life study in Doubt, Competence and Age-dulled Ambition.

“The Gatekeeper said to give you this note and tell you he’s got a small group, quote: ‘all Tholian-webbed’ out on the sidewalk;” the Proprietor took the crumpled No. 10 envelope and smoothed-out the wrinkles against several 8 x 10 glossy black-and-white photos of Ford and jenne, sitting together on one side of a booth listening to someone facing away from the camera; the note itself contained one word, scrawled in a hasty, Bic-blue hand:

“ὑπόστασις (hypóstasis)!”

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.

It is hosted by Denise and has a strict Six Sentence Limit

Speaking of ‘Penny Dreadfuls’, Tom and I are writing a Serial Six Sentence Story: ‘…of Heroes and the MisUnderstood‘.

Prompt word:

GRAIN

Cyrus St. Loreto muttered something in the key of involuntary resignation to the unexpected presence of one of the few women he genuinely respected and chose his words carefully, “Miss Claireaux, I will not insult you with a question regarding your participation in this private discussion on what the Bernebau Company’s former IT Department insists is a secure line.”

Her laughter evoked the downcast eyes and fingers-to-mouth blushing female characters found in so many romance novels set in the mid-to-late 19th century, replied, “Cyrus, declar că oamenii tăi cunosc cu siguranță calea către inima unei femei.”

“You’re crazy as a loon, Anya, gotta say, I like that about you,” Lou Caesare came as close to smiling as Diane Tierney could recall seeing in recent days; “I just got a call from my people, they’re on their way home, I am gladly in your debt,” the gruff edge to his voice enhanced the sincerity of his compliment, “I owe ya.”

“You don’t owe me a thing, Lou,” the Lady from Chicago did something with her voice, shifting from a warm affection for a favored uncle (or family dog), to the hard-edged tone of a life-or-death negotiator being informed of a terminal diagnosis, “As to you, Mr. St. Loreto, I have a parting gift; a list of mid-level functionaries embedded in the security apparatus of most countries who are, in fact, the eyes and ears of a certain secret, quasi-religious organization reputed to be headquartered in Germany.

“I’ll bid you both adieu for now with a reminder: while muscle and direct force serves one of you well and centuries of life affords the other a perspective on the minds of normal men, from the center of my world, both virtual and common, I’ll borrow from Blake, ‘To see a World in a Grain of Sand’.”

 

[Eibigen Abby
Rüdesheim am Rhein, Germany]

Bring the young man from the GHCS, he can now be of use to the Order; as you wish, Reverend Mother

*

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.

It is hosted by Denise and has a strict Six Sentence Limit

Speaking of ‘Penny Dreadfuls‘, Tom and I are writing a Serial Six Sentence Story: ‘…of Heroes and the MisUnderstood‘. (Get your ownself all caught-up before the story ends)

Prompt word:

GRAIN

“Your efforts to assist my organization in this matter of Mooncross Industries has, regrettably, been insufficient; I would be remiss, Mr. Caesare, were I not to remind you that no information coming out of our mutual effort find it’s way into the public eye; negligence in this matter would be quite ill-advised.”

Diane Tierney watched Lou’s face as the voice on the other end of the call slithered out of the handset in search of something to poison; for his part, the owner of the Bottom of the Sea Strip Club and Lounge winked at her and began to make faces at the old-fashioned, very non-video handset; Diane knew boss’s ‘tell’ was nothing as obvious as a scowl or reddening of the face, as he replied to Cyrus St. Loreto, the calm in his tone making his contribution to the surprise telephone call all the more effective.

“Hey, Count Chocula, where I come from we have something called omertà, it’s a code of silence that’s kept people like me in business for quite some time; maybe if your ancestors didn’t have slaughter-everyone-in-the-village engrained in their culture, you could leave the garlic necklaces and heads-on-stakes behind and come live in the 21st-fuckin’-Century; no one and nothin’ leaves my organization without my say so, capiche?

And, while we’re on the subject of who was doing who a favor, when were you gonna tell me about your goddamn super-powered friends, that Co-Ordination of Super Villains bunch; if I hadn’t sent the two people I did, your company’s name would be all over every tabloid in England by now.”

“Boys, boys…boys how about you stop with the ‘who’s penis to bigger or longer or whatever metric you obsess over and act like adults, can you do that for me?”

Anya Claireaux’s voice stepped seamlessly between the two men; underneath the smiling tone, the wheedle of a teenaged girl discovering the power to make her two-week boyfriend drive their stolen car off the interstate and rob the first filling station they came to; not because she needed money, just because.

Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)

This is the Doctrine’s contribution to the Six Sentence Story bloghop.

It is hosted by Denise and has a strict Six Sentence Limit

Speaking of ‘Penny Dreadfuls’, Tom and I are writing a Serial Six Sentence Story: ‘…of Heroes and the MisUnderstood‘.

This Six below is meant to follow Tom’s most recent ‘Old Friends, New Friends‘

Prompt word:

GRAIN

“Moonbeam, seeing how you already made the drive up here from Shogun International Airport,” Rue DeNite stood on the sill of the open right-front passenger door of the SUV in which she and Moonbeam had arrived at Mooncross Industries, an unfortunate thirty minutes late.

Addressing the small group gathered in the parking lot, she looked first at Rocco, her erstwhile bodyguard and putative lover; then Isla, the young mercenary hired to kidnap them from their Airbnb in a posh London suburb; some guy named Alex; and finally, Moonbeam,  a member of something called the Co-ordination of Supervillains and suitor wannabe.

Rue’s expression, which could be accurately, albeit poetically, described as, ‘the texture and grain of extreme exhaustion, writ in flesh’, dared them to ask what airport she was talking about, “What say we get Rocco to drive, give him something to do with his hands and I’ll sit in back and get to know our little home-invader, Isla, a little better.”

“Sounds good, Rue,” Moonbeam, sounding tired, in a PTSD sort of way, slid behind the wheel and on the final ‘thunk’ of a closing door, gravel-crunched the vehicle down the hill and onto the highway back to Reykjavik.

 

[GCHQ London Branch]

“Watch Supervisor Colonel Villicus, you have a call from Number 10 on Line 23.” Reflexively nodding assent to the disembodied voice, Mrs Villicus’s son removed a handset from a locked enclosure and intoned first words of the introductory rites of the Security and Surveillance State, “Yes sir?”