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.
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.
The fair maiden Billie had worked all summer in anticipation of the last week of September. She loved autumn, awash in vivid colour and fair weather. More than anything she longed to show off her fair haired mare. Unfortunately, this wasn’t a normal year, the County Fair had been cancelled due to the ongoing global pandemic.
“It just isn’t fair!” Billie cried. “Unlike Sadie last year, we’d have taken the first place ribbon, fair and square!
Written for GirlieOnTheEdge’s Six Sentence Stories challenge.
Word Prompt: Fair
Photo credit: Adobe Stock.
Copyright 2021 Greg Glazebrook, All Rights Reserved.
My Mom passed away about a month ago and now the task of combing through a lifetime of memories waits around every corner of my childhood home.
After Dad’s passing several years ago I’d catch my Mom stopping in the places he would occupy just to breathe in his scent, talk to him, and be near him through the things he loved.
A mix of heartache and nostalgia, longing for the days he’d surprise her with a new vase full of flowers, a trinket she’d display proudly on a shelf, or a note he’d penned just for her.
Every piece collected and cared for with sentimental value that far outstripped each object’s worldly worth.
To most, including my brother, nothing more than junk; relics from a bygone era that with the exception of a few treasures will end up on the shelves of secondhand stores or in landfill.
It’s less simple for me, I see Mom and Dad and my youth in these objects and I can’t help but imagine what my children will think ‘someday’ as they sift through the remains of my life.
Written for GirlieOnTheEdge’s Six Sentence Stories challenge.
Word Prompt: Junk
Photo credit: Siora Photography via Unsplash.
Copyright 2021 Greg Glazebrook, All Rights Reserved.
Greg's Blog 