Twenty-six years had passed since the grizzly murders of Nicole Brown and Ron Gold.
Every morning James awoke with one goal in mind; he would capture those responsible for this heinous act. Today was no different, he thought as he lay in his bed, the murderer had to be down at the Beverly Hills Golf & Country Club.
He was certain of it, plus a round of golf and a pop or two sounded like a good way to review the years of evidence amassed in his head. Finally dragging his ass out of bed he headed to the kitchen where he’d ingest his daily dose of Orenthal ℞ washed down with a glass of Tropicana OJ.
Completely unaware that something miraculous was about to happen, the Juice would turn to his left and solve the murders; staring back, the killer would ‘once again‘ reveal himself in the mirrored doors of the hall closet.
Fraught with fear, Amari glimpses the shape of the intruder shift in the low light of their living room. Her sharp glare freezing the children behind her in the hallway.
Sensing an opportunity, Amari recognizes this momentary gap in focus might be their best opportunity to escape. She sighs then draws a deep breath, “Go! Go! Go!” Leading them by the arms, she thrusts past the threat and out the front door. They keep on running to safety at the neighbours.
I know, the temerity. If you like these, check out ‘Home Inspection‘ my comedic epic fail of a first attempt at this weeks challenge.
1. Young Punks
He had dined with Kings and Queens, sipped sweet nectar with Gods. Without his contribution, the tech world would still be stuck in the stone ages but here he was a dinosaur himself. The young punks with their TikTok and Twitter kept reminding him. They had the temerity to question his influence on the future. This would be a mistake; he still had more fight than they could imagine.
2. Impossible Dream
Mars was a pipe dream to many. An insurmountable traverse in the cold vacuum of space. So adverse to life that the journey seemed unsurvivable. It would require the temerity of a team of exceptional visionaries to take a dream and turn it into reality. Humankind will remember the first astronaut to set foot on the red planet’s surface. They will celebrate history unfolding in anonymity from Mission Control.
When I first read this week’s prompt for Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt my brain caught a severe case of Dyslexic Moment Syndrome (DMS). Admittedly, DMS is a completely fabricated, home diagnosed condition. Trust me, I am not making fun of the disorder. In fact, I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to look at a page of text and not be able to read it. I admire anyone who has developed coping strategies to overcome it. That said, those of us who are not dyslexic have all experienced DMS at some point in time. Today when reading Sammi’s word my brain saw ‘termity’ instead of ‘temerity’. I normally look up the official dictionary meaning of these words, even the ones I’m intimately familiar with, before writing but because my idea used a play on the word, I didn’t bother. I didn’t catch my mistake until I went to add a link to the dictionary meaning to the end of my post. For the record, once I realized my error I went back and added to the story, blowing the 69 word limit out of the water. This is the tall tale I came up with…
“Howdy Y’all,” Big Daddy said in that slow southern drawl he was known for. Jumping down from his jacked up pickup truck he added, “Looks like a fine property Bubba. Let me take a peek.”
Bubba and Bobbie Jean waited patiently on the porch while Big Daddy did his thing. Checking the roof, windows, foundation from inside and out. He was meticulous as he went about his task, scrutinizing all the things a conscientious building inspector would normally inspect.
We probably should have waited for the inspection before signing the deal, Bubba,” Bobbie Jean lamented.
“Don’t worry Sugar, this place is perfect. I see little Bubbas running everywhere,” he replied.
When Big Daddy finally returned he said, “Beautiful property. A great place to raise the little ones, someday.”
“So it’s all good then?” Bubba said as he began to relax.
“Well, I wouldn’t say that,” Big Daddy retorted. Billie Jean sensed the bubble about to burst as he continued, “Problem ain’t the property boy. The building’s all ‘termity’. Haven’t seen an infestation this bad in years. The whole God damned place could fall in at any moment. I’d steer clear if I was you!”
Epic fail written for Week #243 of Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt, guess I’ll have to try again. Photo credit: Unknown. Copyright 2022 Greg Glazebrook, All Rights Reserved.
I lay on the ground my rifle cocked toward the enemy. The battle rages as the sound of gunfire fill the evening sky. I catch the glimpse of a figure moving towards me through the smoke and haze.
“Stop and get down!” I shout.
The figure continuing to advance on my position. Arms waving in the air.
I take aim while pleading that they stay, “Drop to the ground. God damn it, DROP NOW.” I pull the trigger.
The shells dance in the sand next to me as the sound of each round rings across the battlefield. In the same instant, the figure pushing towards me drops to a heap on the ground and vanishes into the smoke.
After an eternity the dust settles, nerves frayed but our victory secured. The enemy is mostly dead. The unlucky captured, tortured, beaten, and interrogated with efficient brutality. The occasional gunshot pierces through the noise of raucous celebrations.
Haunted by the ghost in the shadows, I walk to the very spot on the now silent battleground. A woman still lays where she fell, terror frozen in her eyes. I follow her stare to a flag white as snow clasped between her fingers.
We came home as heroes, adorned with the medals that they gave us and the scars that we bore. Now the medals gather dust on some forgotten shelf while I spend my nights with a bottle in my hand and that flag at my side.
Photo credit: Pixabay via Pexels. Copyright 2022 Greg Glazebrook, All Rights Reserved.
I’ve been awake for about an hour. The roar of Christmas over, and the comatose haze of turkey and stuffing slowly lifting. The carcass of last night’s bird bubbling on the stove. I look out the back window and what do I see, eight majestic reindeer in the park and a sleigh in my tree.
“What the…’ I throw the door open and head out back to find presents and wrapping strewn across the yard. Upside down laying mostly on his head, a man dressed in red, leaning against my shed. It looks like Santa, but I couldn’t be sure. Shouldn’t he be back at the North Pole with a hot toddy in his hand, cooled out for another year with Mrs. Claus by his side. Continue reading →
Take a moment during the holidays to remember the dedicated individuals, past and present, who risked their lives to protect our freedom. War is not something we seek, however, there are times it is necessary. In those times you rose to the challenges and because of your sacrifices we live and celebrate our own beliefs freely.
Soldiers departing from London, Ontario, heading to fight in World War I.During the First and Second World Wars soldiersweretransported tothe point of departure for Europe by train. — CP Rail Archives.
“Please Stay!” she pleaded. Her Soldier, waving goodbye, unable to comprehend her words above the din of Union Station.
The fair maiden Billie had worked all summer in anticipation of the last week of September. She loved autumn, awash in vivid colour and fair weather. More than anything she longed to show off her fair haired mare. Unfortunately, this wasn’t a normal year, the County Fair had been cancelled due to the ongoing global pandemic.
“It just isn’t fair!” Billie cried. “Unlike Sadie last year, we’d have taken the first place ribbon, fair and square!
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