Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)
Am one day behind. Psycho-metaphorically-speaking, of course. One cannot actually be one day off.
Can one?
damn! that’s how random posts-that-lead-to-a-whole-series-of-posts get started.
Fortunately for you, well-regarded Reader* we already have such a series. In the form of a Six Sentence Story bloghop serial, ‘Time and Man’ (a Sr. Cletus tale)
so what say we go find something under the heading ‘Time’ or, perhaps ‘November 4’ and copy paste that into the post so we can get back to rummaging around our cerebral story attic for tonight’s Six.
Hey! Would ya look at that! All we came up with for a search ‘Sister Cletus’ and ‘November’ was a series of Six Sentence Stories that were part of a WIP of ours in the Sister Margaret Ryan Mystery series. huh!
quick check to see if’n we have a more Doctrine-centric post (after all today is Wednesday and we’d hate to deprive Readers of a Wakefield Doctrine post.)
Nope!
Would be derelict in our duties if we leave it at that. So…
The Wakefield Doctrine is an alternative perspective predicated on the relationship people establish and maintain with the world around them. For the Doctrine, there are but three:
- the Outsider (clarks) who see the world as something ‘out there’ (as in ‘apart from’) and they are driven to find the one bit of information that most everyone else possesses that allows them to be ‘a part of”.
- the Predator (scotts) who know that today, here and now, is the only reality (and, not for nothin’ they don’t even bother with the ‘the only reality’ part). scotts like any predator knows that action is life, sleep is death practice
- the Herd Member (rogers) life knowing two things: there is a Right Way and, if they are to be successful, they will do whatever it takes to make sure those around them know it (yeah, they don’t bother so much with the ‘if they are to be’) lol
Six Sentence Story -the Wakefield Doctrine-
February 15, 2018Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)
Early start. It’s Tuesday evening. The prompt word is ‘SMOKE’. The rules say, story of any style as long as it only requires Six (6) Sentences to tell. zoe is our host and this is the Six Sentence Story!
(from a WIP, ‘Home and Heart’ a Sister Margaret Ryan novel)
SMOKE
Alone in the front pew stood four women; three wore the habits of their Order, individual identity concentrated in a white-framed oval of flesh; the fourth bore the mark of age and loss, unassailable credentials for her place among the devout.
Sister Bernadine, Mother Superior of St. Dominique’s, stood at the aisle, her massive frame, softened by her black habit robes seemed a quiet protection, until one reached her eyes which, never-resting, removed all temptation to dismiss her as an overweight, middle-aged black woman; her right hand rested, immovable, on the pew rail, a stanchion should it be needed by the young woman to her right.
Standing between Sister Bernadine and her mother, Sister Margaret Ryan, novitiate at St. Dominique’s, stood as straight as any young willow tree, the shapelessness of her veil and habit hiding the swaying of her body as winds of rage and grief tore at her, only her eyes, blazing above tear-softened cheeks gave hint to the battle within. To Margaret Ryan’s right, her mother stood like the statue in some medieval religious festival, allowing others to move her from place to place, trusting that she was of use and value to the ceremony, standing as still as eighty-year-old bones permitted.
At the other end of the front pew was Sister Cletus who, if time is the measure of all, was now a ruler worn smooth of markers and measures, the form itself, still straight and true offering aid un-adorned of complication or apology.
Margaret Ryan watched as the Archbishop of Philadelphia stood between the casket holding Father Mathew Ryan, (brother and priest) and the altar, held the silver thurible over his head and let it swing; the pungent smoke rose, rivulets into tendrils, ever upwards, like a fairy tale creature, its wings and its wings and it’s magic torn by the morning sun fighting to escape the grip of the cold and rational earth.
*
* New Reader? hey, your Curator here at the Doctrine is, for the record, a clark (with a significant secondary scottian aspect / weak rogerian tertiary) what other form of respectful address would you expect. oh, that’s right, you’re a New reader. You might very well have noted (in your Read-along-mind) “Shouldn’t that be ‘Dear Reader’? Well, there you have it. Adapt.







