The Word Worker

Tag: Beginnings

  • The Fountain

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    by

    wordworkerrussell
    in

    The river was placid and cold, wide against the narrow horizon.  The deepening autumn chill had turned the trees a bright orange that lit up the river brighter than a forest fire. He set his boots against the rough rocks that formed the bank, the crunch of stone against stone amplified by the surface of…

  • The Memorial

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    by

    wordworkerrussell
    in ,

    There they hung, the uniforms, lining the hallway where they had hung all my life. It would be the last time he walked past them for many months, probably years. He took it slowly, pausing before each one to remember. First the cuffed olive green of his great-great-grandfather’s, the pockets fraying away and the seams…

  • The Leaving

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    by

    wordworkerrussell
    in , , ,

    She had waited for this day for twelve years. Every time an Underage met his or her Milestone, she had followed them up the tracks as far as she was allowed, dreaming of her own Milestone. This morning, her twelfth Day, Da had woken her before Lights, a ready bag in hand. She had dressed…

  • The Mirror World

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    by

    wordworkerrussell
    in , ,

    All his life he had watched the world overhead. All his life he had wondered what it felt like to be surrounded by trees and green things. His own world was barren, a world of ice and rock. The two mirrored each other only in position. There had been tales of adventurers who tried to…

  • The Fisher

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    by

    wordworkerrussell
    in ,

    She was a tiny boat, one of many lined up on the beach with the tide gently kissing their weathered boards. His first, purchased with the blood and sweat of grueling hours spent under the eye of his uncle. She wasn’t much to look at, peeling paint barely visible at the gunwale and salt soaked…

  • The Road

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    wordworkerrussell
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    She had lived in the shadow of the mountain all her life. No matter the season, it’s snowy crags had punctuated her world, piercing the sunrise and reflecting the fire of sunset. Now, standing here on the old Roman road, it stood as the final bastion of my old life. The road itself seemed as…

  • The Aftermath

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    by

    wordworkerrussell
    in ,

    I stared at the last piece of pie, barely seeing it. It had been on the plate in front of me long enough to be room temperature, and the dollop of whipping cream atop it was looking not quite so whipped anymore. Of course returning to Earth after a magical war would coincide with the…