Tag Archives: #creativewriting

1. Resistance: A Clean Kill

Content Warning: Contains violence and coarse language.

1. Resistance: A Clean Kill

“Shhhsh, quiet down and grab that corner, hurry up and wrap the damned thing up in the rug.”

“Oh Christ, it smells like death, can’t we just leave it and go home?”

“Are you out of your fucking mind, if they find it those bastards will hunt us down like dogs? They’ll pick up our scent on that maggot-infested corpse and send a seismic ripple through the hive mind. There will be nowhere to hide, every god damned one of them will catch a whiff of you even if you are on the other side of the planet.”

“The last thing we need to do now is draw attention, especially when we are so close to closing the wormhole – now dispatch with the insipid bullshit and grab a corner!”

The Revenge Series

2. Resistance: Two Worlds >>

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Four Line Fiction (2308)

If I Can Make It Here…

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If I Can Make It Here…

Broadway was a goal that many wouldn’t even aspire to. Lord knows how many nights he doubted himself, how many times he asked why? Last night all that hard work had paid off, just having a show open on Broadway was an amazing feat, even if it ended up only being a short run.

He grabbed the newspaper and flipped to the entertainment section. He could believe what he was reading. The critics were raving about the show and his performance, the reviews were so hot it was singeing his fingertips. The shit was fire, man!!!

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Five Word Weekly Challenge (2308)

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Welcome to Five Word Weekly. Each Monday, I will post five random words to Greg’s Blog at 5:00am Eastern Time (Canada/United States). Your task is to craft prose or poetry using any or all of the word prompts. How you participate is entirely up to you. Your work(s) can be a single piece, a series of stand-alone projects, or an epic serial. Let the words be the inspiration that takes you wherever your imagination leads.

Here are your prompt words for the week of February 20^th, 2023:

valiant | born | seismic | insipid | beautiful

Be creative and have fun. I look forward to reading what each of you conjures up. Don’t forget to show your fellow bloggers some love -❤️- take some time to read, like, and comment on their responses.

Click here for full rules and guidelines

If I’d Only Listened

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If I’d Only Listened

Earth had been aware that the Accarians were coming for decades. Voyager 3’s propulsion system had catapulted it far beyond the limits of our solar system before transmitting one final message.

Following the height of the initial hysteria, humankind spent most of its time and effort squabbling amongst ourselves instead of building our defenses. I denied the message and the science that brought it to us outright but as I watch the portal form out back all I can do is grab for my AR15… and pray.

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I Was Certain

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I Was Certain

the chill of autumn’s breeze
whispers through the rustling leaves
the last of summer’s songbirds warble
warnings of the coming freeze

~ I was certain I’d enjoy the silence ~

the great flocks have long taken flight
my synesthetic heart, barely alight
a rainbow fire that once filled the sky
but a cipher in the grey winter blight

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The Waiting (Reworked and Revisited)

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The following poem is being reposted for Fandango’s Flashback Friday series. “The Waiting” was originally published on February 17th, 2022 using prompts from The Sunday Whirl‘s weekly Wordle challenge and Fandango’s own One Word Challenge. The version I am posting today has been reworked because I found some of the writing cumbersome and believe the changes work better for the peice. It has also been edited for some embarrassing spelling and grammatical errors that appeared in the original.

The Waiting

The tick of the clock
     slams like a hammer
     against Arianne’s eardrum.
Her eyes growing heavy
     as the itinerant sun slips
     towards the western horizon.
Endless red, orange and yellow
     spills from the heavens,
     onto the blue canvas sky
Great billowing cloud herds
     transiting the azure ocean are
     set ablaze against a fiery sunset.
Arianne sits by the open window,
     hypnotized by the meadow sages
     bending in the evening breeze.
Luminescent fireflies dancing free
     leave trails of ghostly strings to fade
     amongst the old grey stones.
Whilst wisps of fairy dust swirl
     in the magical air, like lacy strands
     gilding her already flaxen hair.
She knows not who the traveller is,
     only that the journey ends
     at the old weathered gate.
How much longer must
     she remain here before
her limit has been reached.
For as long as she has a heartbeat
     she has sworn to help
    her weary guest reach the finish.