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:
FUNCTION
The tall, thin man slowed as he approached Room 215; the walk from the ground floor Café & Bistro would have been as quick as from the convenience store to your car except for the soul-battering whorls of darkness that lined the hallways at random intervals.
Lighting a cigarette he walked past doors, some marked with normal alphanumeric numbers, other by sigils of a decidedly foreign character and still others were un-marked which was, somehow, worse; smoking produced a twofold benefit: inhaling deeply, the nicotine dumped dopamine-laden memories of pleasure in times passed and as a bonus, the darkness that inhabited the empty hallways viewed his self-destructive habit with approval.
Now standing at the door to Room 215, the Proprietor recalled the hastily-prepared Seller Disclosure provided when he, Mimi, Denise, Chris and Nick, (the majority of the Proprietors who voted to purchase the abandoned mill building), might have been a bit on the sketchy side in listing material (or immaterial) defects to the property.
Without warning, an earworm, no doubt thrown by one of the dark-streams as a maleficent distraction prior to entering the room; his memory/auditory lobes wrestled like a sophomore coed at her first kegger into connecting the words ‘function’ and junction’ all embedded in a catchy scat-jazz tune.
Hand on the knob, the tall, thin man heard a rhythmic thumping overlayed with a metal on metal tone that sounded just plain sad; stepping into the room, he saw the dumbwaiter on it’s right side on the floor, it’s left hand and arm raising and lowering a card;
{Where Did Everyone Go?}
{Not Again…∩ ! }
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