Category Archives: Fiction

Better Off

“She’s so capricious! Who in hell is she to tell me to ‘accept the ramifications’ of my actions?” an angry Romeo bellowed. “I’m better off without her!

“What now, Julian?  I can’t just go on without her?” Romeo queried through melancholy.

“Hey Jules, what say we check out the cougars prowling Blue Suede Sue’s tonight.”

Blue Suede Sue’s was a successful fifties / sixties style nightclub in Mississauga, Ontario. The best I can tell was claimed as a victim of COVID-19 restrictions. It was the place to go from the mid-nineties onwards if you enjoyed dancing, drinking, and having a good time.
…and yes it did have it share of ‘cougars’ out on the prowl, especially on Friday and Saturday nights.


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Not Me

My heart races as the world closes in. Periphery blurring to gray as my jaw tightens. The room seemingly devoid of air. Fingertips numb and tingling, I clutch at the pain in my chest…

Embarrassed and disoriented, I wake to the voices of the paramedics. As I recover I downplay the significance but inside I’m freaking out. Could I have had a heart attack at 27?

After several hours in the ER, the doctor shares his diagnosis, “Your heart looks good, I suspect it was an anxiety attack.”

“Me, panic?” I reply. “Not a chance. You better check again.”


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Leap of Faith

Hubert was completely unaware of the path he was headed for as he left his shift at the factory early and headed home.

Tired and longing for his bed he walked into the room to find his precious Clarice wearing his Stetson and riding his best friend and neighbour, Carter.

Driving down Route 66 Hubert couldn’t recall much beyond the feeling of adrenaline and visceral emotions that had swelled within him and the blood soaked sheet and lifeless bodies of his wife and friend awaiting him when he awoke from the blackout rage.

In glowing neon letters, the Church of the Holy Redeemer sign flashed on the road ahead; it read “Redemption is just a phone call away, all it takes a leap of faith.”

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Before I die…

Time...

At 29, I wrote a list of the things I wanted to do before I die…

It was long and varied and even as I crossed items off, it continued to grow. At 74 years and 3 months, and just diagnosed with terminal cancer, I may never complete that list. We may be reticent to admit it but no one has the time to do everything they want, and I will not mourn for things left undone. I choose to celebrate that which I have been fortunate to experience and the friends and colleagues whose paths crossed mine along the way; they are the treasures I will take with me from this world.

Until the day I seek redemption before my maker, I will continue to live and maybe, just maybe, I’ll find the time to cross a couple more items from my list before the clock winds down to its final tick.

Disclaimer: For the record, I am not 74+ years old yet and I do not have cancer. These six fictitious sentences were inspired by Sadje’s What Do You See? image prompt. It started me thinking about how someone just diagnosed with a terminal illness may view their bucket list when faced with the inevitable. If and when I get there I hope I handle it like the 74 year old in my narrative above.


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Celesta and the Insilai

It had cornered her in a back alley in one of the rougher areas of Antares City. The backwater center of Antares Prime, a mining colony along the outer rim of the asteroid belt beyond the settlement worlds of Caleb and Karon. The mineral rich rocky band provides the resources that power the tech hungry settlements and keeps the portal to Mother Earth open. The new frontier and the promise of wealth brings all kinds of fortune seekers through the wormhole, the galactic 49ers of the asteroid belt.

Celesta, a bounty hunter by trade knew the creature would bring her a small fortune. The aliens normally avoided the colony, preferring to remain on the more remote rocks of the belt. Only showing themselves when seeking shots of Synth, the highly addictive narcotic preferred by miners hoping to find respite from the hell of this place. The drug had been introduced to the locals in the early years when relations between our species were less strained.

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Bittersweet

Amy’s emotional outburst was visceral in the moment.

To see him, the man that had abused her trust and controlled her every move flummoxed, weak, almost helpless was both sweet and bitter.

It was over, but for her, could never end.


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The Scribe

The scribe prescribed a bribe.
The blame they would ascribe,
for indiscretions they’d committed,
to the other tribe.

The accusations were denied,
Those scoundrels clearly lied.
The scribe who schemed turned coat,
and to the other side, confide.

In a calamitous twist of fate,
the scribe, they would castrate.
His wife, the package sent,
what remained they would ablate.


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Beyond the Heavens

Remi had worked for this moment for as long as he could remember; no handbook or road map had guided him to this point; only his dogged determination in the pursuit of scientific discovery and an innate ability to harness his imagination to reveal impossible solutions.

He quivered as the machine sighed and rumbled to life; the air cracking just above the tension of the shimmering surface.

The multiverse was only a theoretical mathematical construct before he’d discovered a way to open the portal that reached beyond the heavens.

Remi envisioned an expansive network of universes hidden behind the opening’s viscous filter.

The autonomous probe entered the diaphragm, wearing immediately in the wind like current; the camera glimpsing only shadows before going dark.

His greatest triumph, although successful, would come undone as the armies of the multiverse poured through the gate…


Written for Six Sentence Stories #196 at GirlieOnTheEdge
Word Prompt: wear
Note: Used in the post in context to nautical terminology.

Written for Fandango’s One Word Challenge at
This, That, and the Other
Words: dogged (2022/01/23) and handbook (2022/01/24)

Artwork: Sam Del Russi
Copyright 2022 Greg Glazebrook, All Rights Reserved.

Betrayal

Saturday started like any other. Chad was at gym while she sat quietly thumbing through messages, sipping her morning tea. The doorbell rang and Abigail answers to find a woman with child standing alone on the porch.

Abigail stood in the eye of the storm. Lies and deceit laid bare for all to see. A swath of her existence torn asunder. Pieces of her dreams and hopes thrown into the hurricane, spinning widdershins about her.


Week #245 of Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt.
Word: Widdershins, Count: 75

Photo credit: Valentin Müller via Unsplash

Copyright 2022 Greg Glazebrook, All Rights Reserved.

Moot vs. Mute: A Courtroom Drama

Let me preface this story by saying there is nothing more annoying to me that someone telling me that something has been rendered ‘mute’ unless of course it had actually been rendered ‘mute’.
Notice: This story contains course language but only once in the fourth paragraph!

We sat in the crowded courtroom waiting for Billy McGraw, Esq. to begin his final summation. The team had presented a compelling case in defense of our client. He was guilty, just not for the crimes he’d been accused of committing on this day.

“You sit here today to determine the guilt or innocence of this man,” Billy began. “The Crown has painted a convincing picture for you. Complete with timelines, text messages, deadly weapons, expert witness and more. But I submit that Johnny Fingers alibi makes all of that ‘mute‘. He was at hom…”

Billy would continue but the words were no longer registering. They faded into the background. Years of schooling at the finest institutions including the prestigious University of Toronto Law School and still, all credibility lost in a single faux pas. In my eyes and I could sense it in the jury’s eyes.

Sitting there, wanting to scream it out to the entire courtroom at the top of my lungs. “The fucking word is…” but I would mute myself. The damage had already been done, anything else I added would be ‘moot‘.

After a short diliberation, the jury found Johnny Fingers guilty on all counts. Somewhere Billy’s English teachers were rolling over in their graves. It would be the last case Billy McGraw’s ever argued at the firm.


Written for Fandango’s One Word Challenge (2022/01/13) at
This, That, and the Other
Photo credit: Unknown
Copyright 2022 Greg Glazebrook, All Rights Reserved.