Adam awoke from cryostasis; Eva and their children had not survived the journey.
Eight centuries and sixty-seven years had passed since New Hope catapulted into the cold vacuum of space, towards a new home.
Humanity lost, Adam walked to the edge of Canis Major, the Great Dog Sea, and undeniably knew what it meant to be alone.
Written for Week 306 of Sonya’s Three Line Tales challenge. Photo credit: Joshua Earle via Unsplash.
Copyright 2021 Greg Glazebrook, All Rights Reserved.
New Snowfall
Captured overlooking the Etobicoke Creek from Britannia Road, Mississauga, Ontario in January 2020.
Equipment: Pixel 3XL, Rear Camera, 1/600 sec. at f1.8, ISO 67
Additional processing via Adobe Lightroom.
Copyright 2020 / 2021 Greg Glazebrook @ GMG Photography, All Rights Reserved.
Saturday morning Nathaniel asked me to make up a story for him. He is fascinated with the idea of imagination so I suggested that we write one together. He loved the idea and asked if we could write one about a train. Of course, as a five year old he had to be in the story. Here’s what we came up with. Hope you enjoy it.
Simon, a freight engine who proudly wore the #23 on his side was racing to Waterloo station to pick up his friend, Nathaniel. They were headed to the oceanside for the day. Nathaniel loved the beach. It would be Simon’s first time. He had never ridden the seaside route before.
Simon was not sure he’d like the sea air. The other engines teased him before leaving. They said the ocean would rust his wheels. He would end up wrecked like the steel ships sunken in the harbour. Continue reading
Cool November air fills
My lungs as I walk
The drive to your door
Fallen leaves fresh
Beneath my feet
Bid to betray my approach
Forgotten memories
Long faded from mind,
Tempered by the passage of time
Worn and weathered
Two estranged souls
Still harbouring resentment
Refusing to surrender
Like the last leaves of autumn
Clinging to barren branches
Beyond our battered walls
We meet face to face
To assess the coming winter
The wilderness
Heavy with fallen snow
Revealing its sturdy foundation
Time flows infinite but
Our path intersects
For a brief moment
What future still remains
Holding all possible conclusions
The choices we make today
Set the road we follow tomorrow
Moving forward is impossible
If we get mired in yesterday
She looks up at the
Crunch of dried leaves
Beneath my feet
An awkward moment
Then a smile and wave
And I’m home
Photo credit: Seth Doyle via Unsplash.
Copyright 2021 Greg Glazebrook, All Rights Reserved.
Life was good. Exactly where she expected to be. Still, it could be monotonous. She’d head to the bright lights to let loose. A new canvas, whatever she wanted to be.
She watched him walk in from her vantage at the bar. Familiar, but not tonight.
“Lola.” she introduced herself.
“Bill.” he replied timidly.
“First time?” She queried. Tonight she’d eat him alive.
She’d step back into life before he woke and smile when he got home with breakfast.
Written for Week #238 of Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt. (Word: Familiar, Count: 79)
Photo credit: cottonbro via Pexels.
Copyright 2021 Greg Glazebrook, All Rights Reserved.
5: Reckoning
He is sitting at the table with his wife next to him. Sadie walks up from behind and leaning in whispers, “I remember what you did to me.”
His glass slips from his hand as she continues on a line. Looking back to see jets of red shoot across the white table. Her message delivered, like an arrow straight through the heart.
Standing at the end of the bar she watches as he slowly comes undone. Ready for the fight to come Sadie catches a glimpse in the mirror. She sees only herself looking back.
Part 4: Collision Course
Part 5 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.
Maple Leaf on Trail
Captured at Britton Tract (Halton Region Forest), Milton, Ontario in October 2014.
Equipment: Canon EOS 60D, EF70-200mm f/2.8L IS II USM
Additional processing via Adobe Lightroom/Photoshop.
Copyright 2014 / 2021 Greg Glazebrook @ GMG Photography, All Rights Reserved.
4. Collision Course
She had planned for weeks, since the invitation arrived at the door. Her journey set on its final trajectory. Coming this far seemed impossible. Self-conscious, Sadie enters…
The space was surreal, marble columns, pastel accents throughout, the dull roar of countless conversations filling the air. Scanning she sees him. A shiver shoots through her.
It wasn’t too late; she could still turn back. “No!”, Sadie screamed beneath her breath, “How could I look in the mirror again.”
With purpose, she weaved through the crowded room, her realities together approaching from all sides. Trembling she approaches…
Part 3: Convergence
Part 5: Reckoning
Part 4 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.
I had two trains of thought for this week’s challenge and was unable to decide which I liked best so I published both. Can’t wait to read everyone else’s posts for such an interesting word.
“That SOB,” Elena ranting, flung her wedding rings into the river, “and with my BFF!”
Upon returning home her flat erupted, “Happy Birthday!”
“Surprise,” he said, “Dana and I planned your party for a month!”
Elena would spend the next four days mudlarking in the very spot he’d proposed seven years earlier.
The heavens rained down all morning, the track soft and muddy. He couldn’t believe his luck.
Raindance was listed at 100-1. A longshot but she was a mudlark!
Never good at the ponies he’d drop every last penny to win.
Later, walking home he wouldn’t make it across the Easton Street Bridge…
Written for Week #237 of Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt. (Word: Mudlark, Count: 52)
Photo Credit: 1: Hootiewam Boots via Pinterest / 2. Dalton Touchberry via Unsplash
Copyright 2021 Greg Glazebrook, All Rights Reserved.
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.
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