Six Sentence Story | the Wakefield Doctrine

Six Sentence Story -the Wakefield Doctrine-

June 9, 2022 By clarkscottroger

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

Hosted by Denise

Here’s the previous installment, to help, you know, get in the mood. Click here.

This week’s prompt word:

KEY

‘The key to truly enjoying membership in the ‘Mile High Club,’ Stacey Whitelaw smiled as she settled back into her compartment in the Emirates A380, ‘is to be alone, it so decreases the chances of disappointment.’

Though the plane’s accommodations were to steerage class on a Lufthansa 747, as a Fabergé Egg was to a L’eggs hosiery container, sleep eluded her. Despite the default prejudgment inspired by her abundant blonde hair and runway model looks, her mind was not always an ally; Stacey found it difficult to silence, ‘Annabelle Lecture’, the name she’d given the voice in her head since serving out her adolescence at Miss Porter’s School.

Staring at the text on her phone did little to help, other than to regret not getting any higher than she had, thirty minutes after takeoff.

‘It’s that fuckin club or bistro or whatever the hell they called it’; Annabelle was cut off by a voice sifting through the air, suggesting that if all her needs had otherwise been met, the plane would soon be landing at Logan International airport; her basic plan to ‘Find the young student and do something to help’ seemed vaguely insufficient.

Regrettably her typical approach to relationship problem-solving, ‘What’s the problem, let me know when you’re over it so we can go back to having fun’ was not producing the desired affect, i.e. ‘no worries’; Stacey Whitelaw began to suspect her problem wasn’t entirely with the cute-bordering-adorable, college student, but with her recently discovered…concern.

Filed Under: Featured, Psychology, the Wakefield Doctrine Tagged With: Six Sentence Story, the Wakefield Doctrine

Six Sentence Story -the Wakefield Doctrine-

June 8, 2022 By clarkscottroger

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

This is the Six Sentence Story

Hosted by Denise

This week’s prompt word:

KEY

Since time immemorial, Music has been referred to as ‘the language of the gods’. This comes as small surprise to those inclined to consider the role of music in the world of Man, in fact, given the endless ways found to create it, the plural form, ‘gods’ seems only reasonable.

Of course, the natural world, abounding in examples of proto-music, ranging from the songs of birds, the howls of predators and the deep-sea chorus of many, if not all cetaceans, nevertheless only serves to betray a flaw when given over to man (and woman) to embrace and express this divine gift.

Just as the tropical storm is not the Ocean, the instruments fashioned (and voices trained) are not Music, merely individual mechanisms to amplify what is within the soul. At the heart of the dysfunction is denial on the part of whatever culturally-favored depiction of God one might prefer, a refusal to acknowledge that all songs and symphonies, lullabies and martial exhortations are played in the key of fear.

This primal key of the songs of Man (and Woman) is the fear of loss and it is the unintended consequence of the gift from the gods, the true Original Sin being the capacity to imagine time that has yet been heralded by the rising sun.

Filed Under: Featured, Psychology, the Wakefield Doctrine Tagged With: clarkscottroger, Six Sentence Story, the Wakefield Doctrine

Six Sentence Story -the Wakefield Doctrine- (the tall, thin man nearly alone)

June 3, 2022 By clarkscottroger

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

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

Managed, (like, barely, given the tendency of some participants to hurl words, clip phrase and generally try to incite rhetorical mayhem each week), by Denise, this is one of our contributions to the party. In this instance, a Tale from the Six Sentence Café & Bistro.

This week’s prompt word:

EDGE

The tall, thin man sat at his desk, the sound of the band on stage in the Café pounded on the door to the Manager’s office like a pillow-fight in a padded cell.

“Are you going to work all night?’

The contralto voice, softly-hued tentacles moving seductively through the evening-dim light, was nearly as much one of warning as beckoning. A self-assured invitation with an aftertaste of threat, her words sought a part of the man to which few were afforded access, at least, without a cost that well exceeded the price.

A non-specific source above the desk introduced a change in the light-dark topography of the man’s face; contrasting edges softened, shadows enhanced and, like sudden movement in the corner of the eye, something moved closer to the surface, resulting in a trompe l’oeil more likely to inspire regret than pleasure.

A truism passed down through the ages of Man maintains that it’s the dying of the light that gives birth to the night, yet, as the tall man moved with deceptive grace towards the leather sofa set before a fireplace with an azurite mantle, one could be forgiven for preferring the belief that it was the voracious daylight that consumed the fertile night, the better to maintain dominion over the human world.

Filed Under: Featured, Psychology, the Wakefield Doctrine Tagged With: clarkscottroger, Six Sentence Story, the Wakefield Doctrine

Six Sentence Story -the Wakefield Doctrine-

June 2, 2022 By clarkscottroger

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

This is the Six Sentence Story blog hop

Denise is the host

You owe it to yourself to click/enlarge the photo above

This week’s prompt word:

EDGE

The band, on the first night of live music following the fire, was clearly new, both to the venue and as a combo; four college students with a set list of such aggressive diversity that it would take a miracle for the group to last more than three gigs; the Sophomore liked them from the first note of their power ballad rendition of a Beatles classic.

The Café was almost crowded, his path to the sole empty table in the main room was as serpentine as his efforts to make a decision to share what he knew about the burglary of the one place he’d come to feel at home; for the young man with the old eyes, sitting alone in the middle of a club full of people and high-volume music created a feeling of quietude and privacy.

Seeking to bridge the life he remembered and the life he was living, the college-aged student wrote in blue ink from a cheap pen on the medium quality paper of a composition notebook, one page titled ‘Stacy’, the second, nearly complete, had ‘Nick’ on the top line; a subtle change in the air heralded the appearance of one of the Proprietors.

“One of my fondest childhood memories was one rainy September day when my mother brought a box down from the attic and showed me the stories she wrote when she was a girl, they were written, long-hand in black-and-white covered composition books, just like that one,” Despite being short enough to need the rung of the stool when sitting at the bar, Mimi gave the impression of a teacher helping a favored, but troubled, pupil.

Seeing his fingers begin to curl over the top edge of the book, Mimi smiled, “No worries, mon ciel étoilé, your secret is safe with me.”

The band was just singing, ‘Where do they all belong‘, when, from the far end of the Café, voices cut through the music, joy and relief filling cartoon dialogue balloons, “Nick… the Gatekeeper…he’s back’…let me buy you a drink’; despite the ninety decibel music, the Sophomore heard Mimi whisper, “I’ll see that Nick gets your letter and your lady friend as well, now go, mon ami.”

Filed Under: Featured, Psychology, the Wakefield Doctrine Tagged With: Six Sentence Story, the Wakefield Doctrine

Six Sentence Story -the Wakefield Doctrine-

June 1, 2022 By clarkscottroger

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

This is the Six Sentence Story

Denise is the host.

Prompt word:

EDGE

“Go on wid yer now, we’re not payin’ the likes of you to lay about on the grass, counting the clouds!”

Trevor McAleister, remembering his doctor’s mild scolding during his last visit to hospital, ‘Blood pressure, Trevor, it’ll be the death of you’, counted to ten.

“Your mate, the fella with the odd name… Scottish bloke I reckon, what was ‘is name now?”

Taking off his cap, Trevor looked towards the front yard of his newest client’s house, a modest cottage on Church Lane in Girton, felt renewed determination to maintain his calm, continued, “Seasaw … no, Cedric… no, nothing so high class… Ceayr! Blimey, that was it!”

“Find your pally and finish up here, we have three more houses to do before dark,” reaching the front gate he turned and called back to his worker, “An don’t forget, after you two finish mowing the grass, you have to trim the ‘edge.”