He wrote some (bad) poetry in his twenties.
Now in his fifties and seeking creative expression,
He would pick up the pen and try again…
Written for Week 304 of Sonya’s Three Line Tales challenge. Photo credit: Toa Heftiba via Unsplash.
Copyright 2021 Greg Glazebrook, All Rights Reserved.
Written for Week 303 of Sonya’s Three Line Tales challenge. Photo credit: Nathan Watson via Unsplash.
Copyright 2021 Greg Glazebrook, All Rights Reserved.
3. Convergence
The inflective and the reflective finding common ground. Pushing through the barriers Sadie had erected to shield herself from the trauma. Compelling the other to parse through every painful moment in search of resolution. Holding on to the others mirror so as not to fall.
Slowly, buried secrets begin to reveal themselves as she assembles the remnants of a fractured existence. Piecing together the broken fragments from her alternate realities, she rebuilds an identity almost lost to a single violent act.
Who she was and who she has become converging to bridge the chasm together.
Part 2: Resilience
Part 4: Collison Course
Part 3 of 5
Part 1 originally written for Week #235 of Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt. (Word: Mirror, Count: 95)
Background Photo: Pawel Czerwinski via Unsplash.
Copyright 2021 Greg Glazebrook, All Rights Reserved.
Dale watched her grandfather rebuilding the lawnmower. Moments earlier the machine groaned as the blades crashed against the garden’s rocky edge.
“Pass the wrench.” Grandpa hollered.
Dale grabbed the tool from the kit running her hands along the time-weathered edges. She was certain her grandfather had taken this instrument into battle on many occasions.
The worn surfaces fit her grandfather’s hand perfectly. He wielded it with precision, as though it were an extension of his arm. Any hope the chores were done dashed as she supervised her Grandpa’s work. She knew the machine would be running in no time.
Written for Carrot Ranch Literary’s November 18 Flash Fiction Challenge. (Theme: Tools, Count: 99)
Photo credit: Oxa Roxa via Unsplash.
Copyright 2021 Greg Glazebrook, All Rights Reserved.
Inky blue,
creeping westward
across the twilight sky.
Daylight’s last stand,
but a thin band
along the horizon.
Dotting the heavens,
boundless possibility
revealed in its wake.
Rooted to the ground,
the dreamer waits
for gravity to relent.
Written for Week #236 of Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt. (Word: Blue, Count: 38)
Photo credit: Greg Glazebrook via GMG Photography.
Copyright 1997 / 2021 Greg Glazebrook / GMG Photography. All Rights Reserved.
2. Resilence
Through silvered glass, Sadie runs her fingers across her own disfigured face. The tactile sensation of rough-hewn skin momentarily paralyzing her in place.
Hours spent together observing each other. Each movement, every facial expressions examined. Sharing scattered memories through the ebb and flow of tears and laughter. The swift punctuation of anger contrasting the softness of her lips in intimate moments.
A quiet resilience emerges as she begins to accept herself. Her lambent reflection helping to illuminate new passages through her own doubt and despair.
No longer impenetrable, the darkness slowly begins to relent.
Part 1: The Abyss
Part 3: Convergence
Challenge accepted: Written at Sunra Rainz request. / Part 2 of 5
Part 1 originally written for Week #235 of Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt. (Word: Mirror, Count: 95)
Background Photo: Pawel Czerwinski via Unsplash.
Copyright 2021 Greg Glazebrook, All Rights Reserved.
1. The Abyss
Seven years had passed since the assault but Sadie still relived it in excruciating detail with each glimpse of her own reflection.
“How could I have let this happen to me?” she mouthed silently. The looking glass contemptuously mimicking her sentiment through the tears trying to wash away the scars etched into her face.
The woman on the other side of the mirror, is she any different? What if she is only seeking the same compassion and understanding I have sought to find.
Seeing herself in a new light they reach out across the abyss…
Part 2: Resilience
Part 1 of 5
Written for Week #235 of Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt. (Word: Mirror, Count: 95)
Background Photo: Pawel Czerwinski via Unsplash.
Copyright 2021 Greg Glazebrook, All Rights Reserved.
She remembers him playing on these keys like it was yesterday.
Her Dad, not Billy Joel, would always be the “Piano Man.”
Holding on to what remains, dancing with the memories resonating from within.
Written for Week 302 of Sonya’s Three Line Tales challenge. Photo credit: Vladislav Nahorny via Unsplash.
Copyright 2021 Greg Glazebrook, All Rights Reserved.
I know I said I didn’t people well.
I’d be happiest on my own somewhere,
In a backcountry woodlot.
You were unimpressed when I said,
I didn’t want to be tied down by anyone,
Especially you.
I was angry and I was wrong.
You’ve made your point but,
Did you really have to use screws?
Written for Week #151 of Crispina Kemp’s Crimson Creative Challenge. Photo credit: Crispina Kemp.
Copyright 2021 Greg Glazebrook, All Rights Reserved.
The Emperor awoke to the morning sun softly kissing his cheek. Six months had passed since his father’s unexpected demise. At 11 years, the unprepared dreamer, Lin Tai Yu ascended to the throne.
Beyond the trees, northern armies amassed. The cruelty of his father’s crumbling empire spawned an insatiable appetite for revenge.
The child Emperor, oblivious to the cost of his father’s reign, hiding out in treetops playing foolish games.
Written for Week #234 of Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt. (Word: Empire, Count: 70)
Photo credit: Unknown via WWHY.org.
Copyright 2021 Greg Glazebrook, All Rights Reserved.
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