Pushing off from the soft dirt with her bare feet, she swung back and forth gently. The warm wind stirred the tall stalks of wheat in undulating waves, glinting in the mid-morning sun. She mouthed the Word to herself silently. Letting her lips and tongue wrap around the hard syllables. It felt jagged against her teeth, like a blade. She would never dare say it out loud, even if she was sure her father was out of earshot. What if the wind picked up her whisper and ferried it to him?
I should really post here more regularly, to be honest. In the absence of anything particularly exciting to relay: my short story ‘The Word’ was published as part of the Kill Your Darlings Speculative Fiction and Fantasy Showcase, which is very cool. You can read it here.