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.

Freshly Squeezed

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.


Written for GirlieOnTheEdge‘s Six Sentence Stories #194.
Word Prompt: Juice

Photo credit: 1. Aliet Kitchen via Unsplash / 2. Pixabay

Copyright 2021 Greg Glazebrook
All Rights Reserved.

Escape

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.


Written for The Sunday Whirl‘s Wordle #535
Wordle words utilized: sigh / glimpse / fraught / shape / shift / gap / low / might / moment / lead / thrust / breath

Photo credit: Unknown

Copyright 2022 Greg Glazebrook
All Rights Reserved.

Haiku – Winter Storm

The inspiration for this haiku bloomed in the aftermath of a family ice skating excursion. It was hot cocoa all ’round and my little one was captivated by the giant snowflakes falling on the icy cold side of our bay window, complete with heart drawings in the steamy cocoa fog.

Winter white blanket
of softly fallen snow through
cocoa steamed hearts

Written for Colleen Chesebro’s#TankaTuesday Poetry Challenge #256
Photo credit: Jill Wellington via Pexels.
Copyright 2022 Greg Glazebrook, All Rights Reserved.

Muse

You give wings to
Flightless birds,
Breathing life into
these very words.

Through each line
To love or long,
You play the melody
That writes the song.

Like a ballerina
Set upon the stage,
Gracefully you dance
Across every page.

You are my muse.

Written for dVerse Quadrille #143. (Word: Muse, Count: 44)
Photo credits: Anjana C via Pexels.
Copyright 2022 Greg Glazebrook, All Rights Reserved.

Winter Sunset

Captured on Trussler Road near Kitchener, Ontario in January 2022.
Equipment: Pixel 3XL, Rear Camera, 1/350 sec. at f1.8, ISO 49
Additional processing via Adobe Lightroom.

Copyright 2022 Greg Glazebrook @ GMG Photography, All Rights Reserved.

Temerity x 2

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.

Week #243 of Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt.
Word: Temerity, Count: 69

Photo credit: 1. Alessandro Bianchi via Unsplash & 2. Unknown

Copyright 2022 Greg Glazebrook, All Rights Reserved.

Home Inspection

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.

White Flag

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.

Sweet Dreams

Nate finished his special milk knowing what followed.

“It’s Bedtime,” I said.

He’d protested momentarily before asking, “Daddy, please read the ‘pigeon’ book.”

He’d be fast asleep before the story’s end.

Good night my little one,” I whispered and kissed him goodnight on the cheek.

Week #241 of Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt.
Word: Goodnight, Count: 45
Additional information: Good Night vs Goodnight

Photo credit: Greg Glazebrook @ GMG Photography

This is the pigeon book referred to in the story above. I highly recommend it for your children and children of all ages.

Copyright 2021 / 2022 Greg Glazebrook / GMG Photography. All Rights Reserved.