The Word Worker

Tag: Fiction

  • Candles

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    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.…

  • Book Sale

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    by

    wordworkerrussell
    in ,

    The month of March is all about books! This week in particular, at least for Smashwords readers, is super special. Books of all shapes and sizes are discounted all week, just begging to be downloaded and devoured by eager imaginations! _Chosen_, a story of magic, dragons, and prophecy, is one of those. Seline finds herself…

  • Three Suns Eve

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    by

    wordworkerrussell
    in ,

    “Thalia!” Her little brother’s high pitched shriek penetrated the thick timber walls even with the doors almost entirely closed. “Thalia, Mama says thirdmeal will be ready in three clicks.” Eben threw the door wide and stood panting in the sudden light. “Eben, please!” Thalia shaded her eyes with one hand and fanned herself with her…

  • The House

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    by

    wordworkerrussell
    in ,

    She trailed her fingers along the wooden bannister, stepping carefully to avoid tripping over the litter of decay. The air smelled faintly musty, but the open front door lit up the foyer with clear sunlight. She turned and grinned at her companions. Chuck groaned. “I know that look,” he told the real estate agent with…

  • Moon

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    by

    wordworkerrussell
    in ,

    She sniffed the night air, savoring the smells of grass and dead leaves surrounding her den. A screech overhead drew her gaze, but the owl’s presence woke no concern in her yet. A musky scent set her body trembling, and her mate trotted out of the underbrush. He sat just out of reach, tongue lolling…

  • Impossible

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    by

    wordworkerrussell
    in ,

    It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen. That’s how she knew she had stepped through. Thirteen hours on the clock. The impossible hour. Her breath froze and shattered as another puff left her nostrils. Humans weren’t meant to be here. Well, here wasn’t exactly the right word. Weren’t…

  • Cursed City

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    by

    wordworkerrussell
    in ,

    Fifteen years since she had fled the city, a child in a handful of refugees with nothing to feel but pain. Child or not, that last view of the city had been burned into her memory as surely as the real fires had marked her face. She frowned, old scars pulling tight; surely it should…

  • Market Day

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    by

    wordworkerrussell
    in ,

    Shara peered through the nearest window as she worked the complicated controls. Jumping onto the long crank shaft to add her full weight to the effort, she grumbled under her breath. The thing creaked louder than a banshee shriek, and moved about as fast as old Piet dozing in his armchair. She heaved a sigh…

  • The Row

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    by

    wordworkerrussell
    in ,

    The Grand Experiment, the village council called it. Marigold sniffed; Mayor Belfast always did tend toward the dramatic. Bunch of nonsense, in her opinion. What folk were thinking electing that bunch of nincompoops she would never know. Six months they had wasted building the stupid things. A whole row of cottages made entirely of turf.…

  • The Glass House

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    by

    wordworkerrussell
    in ,

    It was a house like every other. Brick walls, stone trimmings, wooden doors, and shingles roof. At least, that what everyone saw during the day. A nice, ordinary dwelling, if a little old-fashioned and pretentious. The moon told a different story. Bricks and boards gleamed, reflecting the soft rays with a greenish light that could…