John P. Creekmore
Bio
Just an artist trying to make it as a writer in a world full of idiots.
Stories (10)
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This Moment In Time
This moment in time is One of the darkest we as a nation have experienced since 9/11, not just an assassination of a man, it was the assassination of trust, of spirit, friendships and of love. We all saw it and the majority of us were appalled and reviled by such an act no matter what side of the aisle you may be or what you thought of him, and yet just a few hours afterward my social media was inundated with hateful posts and comments about how Dems are filthy animals and should be rounded up and either jailed or executed. How my family should be ashamed of how I vote or what I stand for, some very good friends of mine, people I've known my entire life also threatened even though they are among the most peaceful people you could ever meet. People with beautiful souls that have never had a ruthless thought in their minds nor a word of hate from their mouths. Yes it was a vile and disgusting act, but to hold others accountable for the actions of one or a few is itself also vile and disgusting and shows were your heads and hearts actually lie.
By John P. Creekmore4 months ago in Humans
My Friends, My Friends.
We were a small group but we were tight. We all met around the same time, Todd was the first I had met in the 6th grade. Larry, Jeff, John, Dennis & I met a year later. Dennis stood out as he had a full beard in 7th grade, (not even kidding). And upon meeting him I swore that he had been held back so much that he had to be 25, but he was our age. His father had been a Green Beret and had taught him a great deal about survival and hand to hand combat. We all gravitated towards him for this reason as we had a strange fascination for the Vietnam war and those that had served in it. This was around 1983 - '84 and I believe we did this as we all had at least one family member that either served in the war or had been affected by it in some way. But this also made us misfits in school as we were the only ones in camo and field jackets with some of the medals our relatives had given us pinned to he collars and combat patches on the sleeves. You could feel the looks and hear the conversations of some of the other kids that just didn't understand us at all. But we didn't care.
By John P. Creekmore4 months ago in Families
Aftermath
My family lost three people to cancer in a very short time. My nephew Adam first from Ewing's Sarcoma a cancer of the soft tissue diagnosed at 15 and dying a week after his 18th birthday in 2010, my father to Renal cancer in 2013 being diagnosed in September of that year then dying by December and my nephew Aaron to the aftermath of it all.
By John P. Creekmoreabout a year ago in Families
10 Years. Top Story - December 2023.
I can feel their eyes on me, people looking me over as I speak to them wondering why I haven't shaved or look disheveled. It's because I can barely look in the mirror anymore, whenever I do all I see is you. As I brush my hair back it looks like your hair, I grow a beard and it's your beard. Even the bags under my eyes are exactly like yours, it's inescapable.
By John P. Creekmore2 years ago in Families
My Hero
I was fortunate enough to have a great Father, not perfect but great as in he taught me well. He taught me great music. He taught me great stories. He taught me how to work with my hands and too put in an honest days labor. But most of all he taught me how to love myself by loving his family in such a way that when I think back on it now it brings a tear to my eye. He gave of himself not just when needed but every moment of every day, making sure we all had what we needed to get by. We were not rich by any means but we were very happy. I hear so many stories of people who could not relate to their parents and I never have anything to add to the conversation because I never knew what that was like, of course I like many kids didn't always get them or they me. But we laughed so much, all the time. They were so much fun.
By John P. Creekmore3 years ago in Men
Marvin Gaye's "Inner City Blues."
I've always taught my kids and grandkids that history repeats it's self, always. No matter if we want to acknowledge that or not as human beings doesn't matter because it's a fact that cannot be ignored and the absolute truth I have of that is one song, "Inner City Blues" by Marvin Gaye.
By John P. Creekmore3 years ago in Beat
A Life of Music
I feel that I'm only alive because of music. Let me explain, most of us love music and a lot of us feel like we're the only one's that experience music on a deeper level than most. But I can honestly say that music affects me so deeply that it has literally saved my life on a number of occasions, I have suffered from depression for as long as I can remember and I remember the feeling of wanting my life to end around the age of 15. At that time I was on my way to becoming the artist I am today and doing so with my music always in the room or on the go, (it was 1984 so yeah, I had a boom box don't judge.). I had to have it on all the time no matter what to the point that it made my parents crazy, even though it was really their fault. I grew up with my mother playing Fleetwood Mac "Rumors", Chicago's Greatest Hits or James Taylor all over the house, while in the garage on any given Friday or Saturday night, my father would be listening to Merle Haggard, Waylon & Willie, B.B. King, The Rolling Stones or he would have WYSO radio playing bluegrass. I loved all of it and I couldn't get enough of it.
By John P. Creekmore3 years ago in Beat
Revenge of The Frogs
In the middle of Critteden, Kentucky is a small but very fine pond. A pond that is home to some of the largest and loudest Bull Frogs in the state, Nay, the country. It is a pond that on a very late drunken Friday night my Unk said, “I’m gonna learn ya somethin’ Nephew.” Unk enjoyed the simple things, Bluegrass music, beer, bourbon, women and frog legs. The latter being one of his favorite of activities because it could be done in total darkness while enjoying many a cold fermented beverage. Too many at times.
By John P. Creekmore5 years ago in Families
An Irish Mother
My GTO was always parked the same way in the garage every night and I always kept the mileage written down because my job had me traveling a lot, not to mention I had a teenage son at home that would stare at it like it was the hottest girl in school and he was gonna take her out one night and prove to her why she should be with him. One key was with me and the other, well the other was with my hot tempered Irish mother in the bottom of her purse. A place we both thought would be one of the safest in the world for it. For to even contemplate reaching into her most sacred of items and digging to the bottom to find anything when you were not authorized to do so was in its self a way to ensure the wrath of God in the form of a four foot eleven inch tall woman to come down upon you. To actually do such a heinous act was not only stupid, but signing your own death warrant.
By John P. Creekmore5 years ago in Humans
Love Daddy
The room was pitch black Jason couldn’t see anything, as he stumbled in the dark he could hear crackling like the sound of a low flame burning in a fireplace but still no light to be found. He called out for his wife and children but received no reply. “Stacey! Ella! Bobby!” he screamed. Only hours before they had been resting comfortably in their beds dreaming of times long past, of green fields, people and dogs playing in parks and the lovely hello’s of friendly people walking by one another on the streets. A time before the darkness of war, the horror of the screams in the distance of someone in agonizing pain then softly drifting off into nothing. The silence sometimes worse then the screaming, because at least you knew they were still alive.
By John P. Creekmore5 years ago in Fiction
