The Word Worker

Tag: Loss

  • The Bridge

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    by

    wordworkerrussell
    in ,

    It only appeared in the fog, the old bridge. Not the morning fog when the rising sun burned off the surface of the river. The rare sunset mist defying the golden glow spilling over the horizon. The mist that was both there and not there, with impossible shapes darkening it. With the bridge that couldn’t…

  • 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.…

  • Dry

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    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…

  • Footprints

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    by

    wordworkerrussell
    in ,

    The old ones called these valleys the footprints of the gods. Impossibly pressed between rocky conifer peaks, the rich dark soil harbored fertile fields and close-knit villages. The only paths in led through crevices and over streams accessible only by foot, cutting us off from all but the most adventurous outsiders. Few even of those…

  • The Edge

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    by

    wordworkerrussell
    in ,

    They called it The Edge. In reality it was a dam, the greatest feat of engineering ever achieved. The power of the great glacier harnessed, tamed, to do man’s bidding. To him it was more. The wars of the twenty-third century had left scars upon the fertile equator and stripped the temperate plains to desert.…

  • The Box

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    by

    wordworkerrussell
    in ,

    She closed the door slowly, keys slipping from her fingers to the entryway table with an absurdly loud clatter in the silent house. A light showed dimly under the kitchen door and her feet moved automatically in that direction. Her hand slid across the door as she pushed it open and a broad swath of…

  • The Warp

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    wordworkerrussell
    in , ,

    The city burned. Well, technically speaking, cities, since there seemed to be several versions all at once. It had started on Times Square. Everyone on the street suffered the same blinding headache at the exact same moment, and when they recovered the billboards had been replaced with the original New York Times building. Brand spanking…

  • 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 Elevator

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    wordworkerrussell
    in , ,

    I stood on the boardwalk, gazing out at the elevator glowing faintly in the reflected light of the moon. The water was eerily still, barely a whisper in my consciousness. Pap, Mam, and I had been in line on the boardwalk since a week gone, since the day we were granted our tickets at the…

  • The Frost Bubble

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    by

    wordworkerrussell
    in ,

    Nevaeh blew through the wand, her breath white in the crisp air. I shivered, wishing I had taken the time to grab my coat before following Nevaeh out here. Despite skin the color of chalk and deep hollows in her cheeks she seemed unbothered by the cold. Moving ever so slowly, she touched her bubble…