Tag Archives: #creativewriting

Galloping Gossip Bitties

Galloping Gossip Bitties

Neigh!” Annie brayed, “Look at Black Nellie over there.”

“Thinks she’s all the neigh strutting her hind quarters like some little philly.” Cinnamon replied.

“I heard she couldn’t hold her road apples at the fair last week.”

“I know, dropped them right there with the kiddies looking on, how embarrassing! N-n-n-neigh!

“Shhh, shhh, hold your neighs girl, she’s trotting our way!”

Neigh.” the two ponies greeted Nellie with pinched mouths.

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A Miners Lament

A Miners Lament

Weeks working long hours in the remote oil sands had taken their toll but today the company-sponsored busses rolled into the Saloon of this makeshift northern town.

The jamboree would run non-stop for the next five days, it was time to cut loose. The booze would flow and the comfort girls, drawn to payday money, would be primed and ready for the carousing to begin.

Billy hated himself watching the stranger, her curves rocking in his lap. Back east, his Annie was waiting for his return.

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The Biology of Things

The Biology of Things

My attention had shifted to Helena, hijacked by the pheromones (or perfume) wafting on the air currents in the auditorium.

Professor Carmichael was droning on about Lepidoptera and the infinite mutations that made something as simple as a Madagascan Sunset moth possible.

My attentions were more carnal. Although genetics were not top of mind, all that mattered were the variations that made such a beautiful creature possible.

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Breaking Free

Breaking Free

“What a year!” Emma hadn’t been this happy since her teens.

Yes, she’d raised two wonderful children that she wouldn’t trade for anything. Still, an ache inside, she didn’t belong here. Her spirit longed to escape its cage and soar.

Finding Celine had set her free.

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Budda Boom, Budda Bing

Swirlies

Just chilling with the family today. We’ve been laughing and carrying on most of the day. My six-year-old has just learned about swirlies. He was being silly, saying he would put Mommy’s head in the toilet and I may have explained that if he flushed, he would be giving Mom a swirly. Now, with uncontrollable giggles, the little bugger keeps threatening my wife and me with a trip to the sewers.

A Real Cracker

I swear this part is not a recipe post although the Spaghetti Pomodoro from The Floured Kitchen looks delicious. My hunger has caused me to digress so let me bring it back on point.

In our travels earlier today, we saw a sign with this cracker of a joke out front of our local East Side Mario’s restaurant. Being an Italian-American themed restaurant with New York City as its design motif, put on your best NY accent and have a go at what the sign read…

Q: What do you call a fake noodle?

A: An impasta!!!

Budda boom, budda bing…


Photo Credit: Bek at The Floured Kitchen
Copyright 2022 Greg Glazebrook, All Rights Reserved.

The Scapegoat

The Scapegoat

It didn’t matter if this tinpot dictatorship trampled on the rights of its citizens or those sharing a border. He was the President’s guest, and as such smiled while flippant comments about war crimes and human rights violations flew around the table.

Back home, blame for the Ambassador’s cozy relationship fell squarely on the Prime Minister. Like a good civil servant, he tendered his resignation to conceal the government’s secret support for the regime.

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Red Mist

Red Mist

Terryl felt ill, a gnawing in his stomach that had started in the hours following his return from Orion Prime’s surface.

The mission was uneventful, a ride through the red tide mist to the Orion-Beta mine site where the landing party deployed new communications boosters and completed routine software updates on the mining bots.  

No one else from the team was reporting anomalies but several days later Terryl sat in sickbay awaiting his fourth assessment; his previous scans had come back normal, but he was certain something was eating away at his insides.

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