The Word Worker

Tag: Death

  • Mirror, Mirror

    —

    by

    wordworkerrussell
    in ,

    Good morning, my queen. Your wish is my command. You wish to know the fairest in the land? Of course you! Who else possess this marble perfection? (The aroma of your conceit sends delicious shivers through my bones. I drink it like wine, intoxicating ether.) What thwarts your smile of ice, Majesty? Does trust in…

  • 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.…

  • Dry

    —

    by

    wordworkerrussell
    in ,

    Color surrounded her, the brilliant yellows and reds and greens of summer in the garden. The sky glared blue overhead, and she glared back at its near cloudless face. Her hand closed around the nearest white spray, twisting involuntarily, the crushed petals releasing their nauseatingly sweet scent as they fell from her fingers. She took…