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 each week by Denise, all we’re asked to do is write a story of six (and only six) sentences.
Prompt word:
KICK
It’s the smell that gets the newcomer, really; you’d think, in this modern day of solid-state appetites and digital passion it wouldn’t, but the closest encounter most people have with the spiritual is at the nexus of scent and memory. However, here, at the opening of our story, it’s the smell of the air, at once machine oil and grease mixed with carboxylic acids, the original eau de Cologne of human suffering. This particular detail will be all the more a kick in the Reader’s head as they finish and realize this Six is just a one-off parable, (or maybe a fable), about the inner world of creating fiction.
Yeah, that section of cubicles forming a hexagonal exercise yard is the GenPop module; nope, no fences or barricades, don’t need ’em, that bunch has an irresistible drive to form ghettoes, each different genre anchored by slavish obeisance as they pray to their god with a thousand faces, the Almighty Campbell for inspiration, if not intercession, in their effort to write.
That building, off by itself, is our Maximum security, it’s where we house the metaphor-addicts; no, don’t even bother asking, trying to talk to those poor bastards is like… well, you know.
Sure, some are rehabilitated and allowed to return to society; the lucky ones find a quiet, minuscule-PageRank blog and live out their lives shamelessly churning out negative-meta tales for word-prompt bloghops.
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