Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)
This is our contribution to the Six Sentence Story bloghop.
Hosted by Denise, guided by the simplest of rules: use the prompt word and tell a Story in exactly six sentenceseses.
Story note: as we learned in last week’s Six, Rue is a stage name, not her real name,
Prompt word:
STRAIN
The post Six Sentence Story -the Wakefield Doctrine- [a Rue DeNite Six] first appeared on the Wakefield Doctrine.“Now, keep a strain on that bowline and I’ll kick the stern around ’til we’re clear of our bunkmate.”
Her father’s voice, although church-quiet as he prepared to free their boat from another that had tied up to them in the night, had a way of gently brushing her hair over her ear; it always made her feel like she could do anything.
The harbor was a mirror full of pleasure boats, the 5:00 am sun still behind the salt-scented gauze of fog preparing for the day ahead; standing on the bow, her hands on the line wrapped around the small-t of the bollard, Kasia felt the boat shift and then rotate stern-first outwards; her father jumped from their boat, the Elysium, to the dock to secure the boat that had blocked their departure.
“Good job,” the girl fought the urge to laugh, her oft-misunderstood way of reacting to a compliment was acceptable in grade school but that was now a month behind her; stepping down into the cockpit, breakwater approaching like a good-natured crocodile, she laughed anyway.
“You have the helm, Number One,” her father backed down through the hatchway and into the galley, the sounds of cups and coffee temporarily competing with the private burbling of the small auxiliary engine as the boat found it’s way out into the still mirror-flat sea, the uniform overcast-sky erased the horizon as her father returned topside.
“Your life is as this ocean, at this moment, limitless and accepting any course you chose to chart,” Kasia smiled and let her fingers trace flowing runes in the water as the boat headed East.
