Amy’s emotional outburst was visceral in the moment.
To see him, the man that had abused her trust and controlled her every move flummoxed, weak, almost helpless was both sweet and bitter.
It was over, but for her, could never end.
The scribe prescribed a bribe.
The blame they would ascribe,
for indiscretions they’d committed,
to the other tribe.
The accusations were denied,
Those scoundrels clearly lied.
The scribe who schemed turned coat,
and to the other side, confide.
In a calamitous twist of fate,
the scribe, they would castrate.
His wife, the package sent,
what remained they would ablate.
Remi had worked for this moment for as long as he could remember; no handbook or road map had guided him to this point; only his dogged determination in the pursuit of scientific discovery and an innate ability to harness his imagination to reveal impossible solutions.
He quivered as the machine sighed and rumbled to life; the air cracking just above the tension of the shimmering surface.
The multiverse was only a theoretical mathematical construct before he’d discovered a way to open the portal that reached beyond the heavens.
Remi envisioned an expansive network of universes hidden behind the opening’s viscous filter.
The autonomous probe entered the diaphragm, wearing immediately in the wind like current; the camera glimpsing only shadows before going dark.
His greatest triumph, although successful, would come undone as the armies of the multiverse poured through the gate…
Written for Wordle #537 at The Sunday Whirl
Words utilized: triumph / reveal / way / sigh / quiver / moment / cracking / expansive / filter / undone / reach / shimmering
Written for Six Sentence Stories #196 at GirlieOnTheEdge
Word Prompt: wear
Note: Used in the post in context to nautical terminology.
Written for Fandango’s One Word Challenge at
This, That, and the Other
Words: dogged (2022/01/23) and handbook (2022/01/24)
Artwork: Sam Del Russi
Copyright 2022 Greg Glazebrook, All Rights Reserved.
Saturday started like any other. Chad was at gym while she sat quietly thumbing through messages, sipping her morning tea. The doorbell rang and Abigail answers to find a woman with child standing alone on the porch.
Abigail stood in the eye of the storm. Lies and deceit laid bare for all to see. A swath of her existence torn asunder. Pieces of her dreams and hopes thrown into the hurricane, spinning widdershins about her.
Week #245 of Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt.
Word: Widdershins, Count: 75
Photo credit: Valentin Müller via Unsplash
Copyright 2022 Greg Glazebrook, All Rights Reserved.
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.
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.
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.
I’ve been awake for about an hour. The roar of Christmas over, and the comatose haze of turkey and stuffing slowly lifting. The carcass of last night’s bird bubbling on the stove. I look out the back window and what do I see, eight majestic reindeer in the park and a sleigh in my tree.
“What the…’ I throw the door open and head out back to find presents and wrapping strewn across the yard. Upside down laying mostly on his head, a man dressed in red, leaning against my shed. It looks like Santa, but I couldn’t be sure. Shouldn’t he be back at the North Pole with a hot toddy in his hand, cooled out for another year with Mrs. Claus by his side. Continue reading
Standing backstage she shone like a star despite a tear falling from her eye.
The colours of her pavonine costume, iridescent in the dim light of the corridor.
The music from the orchestra building towards imminent climax.
It was almost time to walk out on that stage for the final curtain just like it had happened a thousand nights before…
The crowd would go wild. Her transformation from child to woman to goddess complete.
Except, this time there was no tomorrow.
Week #240 of Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt.
Word: Pavonine, Count: 81
Photo credit: Magaret Jaszowska via Unsplash.
Copyright 2021 Greg Glazebrook, All Rights Reserved.
Most everyone has seen me on CNN’s investing segment. A successful investor who built an empire through sound investing decisions. Many follow my investing advice by reading my syndicated column published daily in countless newspapers or through my weekly investing podcast. For many, my philanthropic foundation and the work it does has touched their communities and families.
This story isn’t about any of that; this is the untold story of how it all came to be. It really should have been episode one of the podcast except that what I am about to disclose can never be documented, anywhere, ever. We are all haunted by a past and exposing mine would unravel all the good that has been accomplished since. Continue reading
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