The Word Worker

Category: Fiction

  • Not a Fairy Tale

    —

    by

    wordworkerrussell
    in ,

    Once upon a time… Oh please, not that trite old beginning again! Well it did happen once upon a time. How else would you like me to begin? As I struggled for breath, I reflected on the events that led to my current situation. O-kay…  Anyway, in an ancient oak in the center of an…

  • The Watch

    —

    by

    wordworkerrussell
    in ,

    The sound of the sailors’ feet shifting against the boards grated on the silence. A whispered prayer floated unintelligibly over the water, blending with the fog like something unearthly and dreadful. There should have been waves noisily licking below, the creak of rigging in the shift of the wind. Edwin closed his eyes, his hands…

  • Checkers

    —

    by

    wordworkerrussell
    in ,

    He sat down across from old Fred, legs dangling even in the spindly little chair, and watched the old man with owlish eyes. As if his gaze exerted some sort of force, Fred raised his hat brim enough to peer under it at the boy. “Well?” “How ’bout a game?” The boy leaned back and…

  • Gods of Pompeii

    —

    by

    wordworkerrussell
    in ,

    “Tilda, I think we found another set!” Mario fiddled with a button on his shirt, waiting for his partner to dig herself out of her usual mound of paperwork. “I can’t imagine what they were doing way up here.” “What strange poses!” Tilda observed, leaning over his shoulder to view the monitor. “I can barely…

  • Blog Thursday Prompt: The Kettle

    —

    by

    wordworkerrussell
    in ,

    “It’s not my fault! The kettle began it!” “Please, do go on. How exactly did the kettle begin it?” “Weelll… it just sat there so… so… sitty!” “I see. It was ‘sitty.’ And the problem with that is what, exactly?” “Sitting is just so boring! How could it just not do anything?” “So, you decided…

  • Desire

    —

    by

    wordworkerrussell
    in ,

    Marble is dark, silent, and cold. My roots tenuous anchor hold. Sing the song of the stars with me. Can you not hear our harmony? Come with me, in the shadows dance. Stardust and bud, a sweet romance. How shall I venture there alone? I fear the lure of earth and stone. I cannot fly…

  • Sunset

    —

    by

    wordworkerrussell
    in

    The deep rays surrounded her, burning deep into her skin. Her tears were flame, paths of umber scoring her cheeks. She screamed at the sea below, at the calm waves whispering against the rocks. Her hands trembled on the railing, knuckles white and stiff against the gray wood. Where was the peace promised? Where were…

  • FWG Blog Thursday: Famous First Lines

    —

    by

    wordworkerrussell
    in ,

    This week’s response is provided by my kids. Following are two different stories using the prompt. Aside from a small amount of editing, these stories come straight from them and are written in their own voices. I hope you enjoy them. Thor’s Hammer, by Isaiah All this happened, more or less. I’ll fill you in…

  • Thump

    —

    by

    wordworkerrussell
    in ,

    A little boy was walking in the woods one day. He tripped over a stump and fell on his face with a thump. He started to get up and realized he had fallen at the edge of a pond. A giant bullfrog stared him right in the eyes. The little boy reached to pet it,…

  • Candles

    —

    by

    wordworkerrussell
    in ,

    The dried up, decomposing vines brushed her skin, tendrils of the darkness that protected what was left of her soul and crushed the breath from her lungs all at once. The candles in front of her flickered, pitiful against even the promise of wind in a trembling leaf at the edge of vision. Only three.…