The Word Worker

Tag: Ghosts

  • The Phantom’s Mask

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    wordworkerrussell
    in ,

    The flashlight beam reflected from the dark water, and she stirred the water with her toe just to break the unnatural stillness. Even her footsteps barely whispered in the cavern. Quite a contrast from the busy, vibrant stage far overhead. She continued skirting the lake, passing her light over damp columns. The years had left…

  • The Folly

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    wordworkerrussell
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    “Come on, Sal, what kind of place is this for a picnic? It’s creepy!” “Donny, you’re the scariest guy I’ve ever met. It’s just an old building and some dead trees. Can’t you imagine what this place looked like in its heyday?” “Heyday? Sometimes I think you’re an old ruin, Sal. Who talks like that?…

  • Cursed City

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    wordworkerrussell
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    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…

  • The Glass House

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    wordworkerrussell
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    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…

  • The Quarter

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    wordworkerrussell
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    Jean rested in the relative darkness of the tiled alley. The fan, incongruous against the ancient brick, did little to improve the sticky New Orleans heat pouring in from the open courtyard. Why couldn’t he have died somewhere cooler, he grumbled to himself. He’d certainly had the opportunity. Born the younger son of the old…

  • The Girl

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    wordworkerrussell
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    She was there every day the sun shone, sitting against the big oak in the park with her guitar. No one ever saw her come or go, but when she played anyone nearby stopped what they were doing. They gravitated to her, faces suddenly pensive, often tearful as if their deepest longings surfaced. She always…

  • The Legend

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    wordworkerrussell
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    There he was, in all his lacy glory. I’d heard of the viscount, of course, from every local in every cafe and bistro between Paris and Calais. Quite the legend, apparently, that no one outside of France had ever heard. No one remembered his full title, or even his family name, only that he was…

  • The Flower Girl

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    wordworkerrussell
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    She was my friend, but no one knew about her. She said no one would believe me anyway, so I never told anyone. Until now. Maybe you won’t think I’m crazy. Her name was Daisy, but I called her my flower girl. She was so pretty in her white dress with a clover chain draped…

  • The Ghost

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    by

    wordworkerrussell
    in ,

    The monk stood beneath the arch, staring down the endless corridor of archways. Once echoing with the sounds of prayers and sandals, once filled with the bounty of the fields waiting to be distributed where needed, the archways stood empty and silent. He was alone. No one had foreseen the disaster. The unholy thing had…