The Word Worker

Tag: Time

  • 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…

  • Wait

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    by

    wordworkerrussell
    in ,

    This morning I found myself reflecting on my husband’s and my history. When I was a teenager my family attended an annual lecture series at the small college he attended. The students were responsible for a lot of logistics as part of their education, so we would have run into each other multiple times over…

  • Time

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    by

    wordworkerrussell
    in ,

    At first glance the room seemed frozen in time, it’s antiquated charm untouched by the decades. A closer look revealed a different story entirely. The light streaming in the windows cast shadows that hid threadbare patches in the aging carpet. In a far corner, disguised by carefully arranged furniture, a square of plywood barely covered…

  • Inexorable

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    by

    wordworkerrussell
    in ,

    He had lived his entire life in its shadow. Gazing up its sides with jaws agape like the tourists he ferried. Losing himself in the whispering roar of its invisible flow. His boat had been a favorite; no one knew the glacier like he did. Every pop, every boom, was a message. His passengers returned…

  • The Square

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    by

    wordworkerrussell
    in ,

    It was an odd place, cobblestone streets and medieval plaster houses confusingly paired with modern storefronts and colorful canvas awnings. Agatha loved it. Every birthday and anniversary, she insisted we have lunch at the little bistro on the tiny mishmash of a square. The city had long since turned the houses into a retirement village,…

  • Seasons

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    by

    wordworkerrussell
    in , ,

    She stretched her nearly thawed wings to brush the trees on either side. How much fun dancing among the branches had been, their bare bones crackling beneath the ice of her feathers. How delighted she had been by the cooling that had silenced the world and dressed her in crystal lace. The touch of her…

  • The Dust Siren

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    by

    wordworkerrussell
    in ,

    “Come with me, my lord,” she whispered in his ear. She was perfect, enchanting in her beauty. She laughed, silver notes of music, and caught his fingertips with hers as she danced lightly away. He followed, allowing the touch to remain. She twirled with delight, the hem of her robe indistinguishable from the dust on…