Welcome to the Six Sentence Story (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)
This is a Six Sentence Story
Denise is the host and, to the best of our understanding, neither condemns nor condones this playing fast and loose with tradition that forms the foundation of the Six Sentence Story ‘hop.
Prompt word:
CONTROL
The post Six Sentence Story -the Wakefield Doctrine- What?!! You can’t do that!! first appeared on the Wakefield Doctrine.“No fuckin’ way! You can’t take those, you said all you needed were cell photos to lock up a snap bid for a sorority.”
The Sophomore’s words, aimed at the young man walking away from the loading dock, carried a hurt tone that bounced off the shoulders of the girl, now halfway down the alley, even before the steel doors shut behind the three young people.
Roger, a burlap bag bouncing off his denim-clad shin with less sound than a cloth clapper inside a felt bell, moved with an urgency in contrast with the casual, in control, smile of his voice, “Thanks, sport, I couldn’t have gotten this stuff out without your help, and we want you to know how much we appreciate it.”
Jogging a few skip-steps to catch up with the girl, caused his long dark hair to momentarily obscure his face; had there been an observer of sufficient age or expertise in music history, his resemblance to at least two folk singers of the 1970s would’ve startled them.
The girl was short, had long brown hair that did little to soften the gold wire-rimmed glasses magnifying her ‘D Color’ eyes, and clearly an after-thought, wore a blue madras shirt, the last pearl button, just above a fairly redundant macrame belt missing, her effort to appear relaxed was common to early-evening drunks and misbehaving children. As she turned towards the green Plymouth Valiant, parked next to an over-flowing dumpster, her companion, now pulling her by the hand, provided a staccato farewell of leather bootheels on greasy cobblestones.
