Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)
This is the Doctrine’s contribution to the Six Sentence Story bloghop.
Hosted by Denise, constrained by a sentence limit (high and low) of six, there are worse ways to spend the remaining time you have on earth.
Prompt word:
FLAG
“First of all, nothing bad will happen to any of you as you make your way to my city.
After you get here… well, that’s kind of up to you,” Anya Clarieaux had a gift for speaking over a distance; her talent for vocal inflection imbued her voice with such presence that every grin and raised eyebrow was converted to a memorable portrait of the person in the listener’s mind, think: truly great silent movie actors… except in reverse.
“After I hang up, this group call connection remains open so you three can, if you are so inclined, explore common interests or goals; that said, if any of you are tempted by the thought of running a false flag move on the others, don’t bother; I will not hesitate to make my resources available to those bearing the brunt of any attack,” Anya’s voice faded slightly, as if turning slightly from her microphone, followed immediately by a coughing fit that sounded like: “Crazy nun, Sister Ah ah ah clima!”
“Gesudheit,” the Sophomore’s voice was clear, concise and quite sincere.
“Ell-mer, my man!” Anya Clarieaux reacted with unalloyed surprise and delight; the Sophomore smiled without affectation or guile and replied, “Gonna wave my freak flag high!”
“Yeah, you are,” Anya Claireaux, in the safety of her office atop the Omni Corp building at 333 Wabash Ave., relaxed and felt good.










