Willow J. Fields
Bio
Willow J. Fields (he/him) maintains a humble writing and recording practice from his cramped, sound-treated closet; incorporating everything from VR to history. His work can be found on most social media under Willow's Field/Willows_Field.
Stories (14/0)
Story Pic No. 16 - 20
I take a lot of walks in my spare time. Thankfully, I live in a beautiful neighborhood of a fascinating city (Seattle), which I love to explore; so, whether it's to stretch my legs, gather my thoughts or simply just to get some fresh air, I spend a lot of time walking. I started writing these ‘Story Pic’ flash fiction pieces when—after some self-reflection—I realized that most of my new ideas for current WIPs manifested while I was on one of my walks. So, like any good American, I turned something natural that I did to relax into work. Below are the fruits of my endeavor, each story inspired by something that I came across while exploring and took a picture of (as one might infer from the series title). The stories were originally released weekly on my social media—where they are still available (@willowsfield)—spanning over four months of my rambling thoughts. Please enjoy, if you so choose.
By Willow J. Fields2 years ago in Fiction
Story Pic No. 1 - 5
I take a lot of walks in my spare time. Thankfully, I live in a beautiful neighborhood of a fascinating city (Seattle), which I love to explore; so, whether it's to stretch my legs, gather my thoughts or simply just to get some fresh air, I spend a lot of time walking. I started writing these ‘Story Pic’ flash fiction pieces when—after some self-reflection—I realized that most of my new ideas for current WIPs manifested while I was on one of my walks. So, like any good American, I turned something natural that I did to relax into work. Below are the fruits of my endeavor, each story inspired by something that I came across while exploring and took a picture of (as one might infer from the series title). The stories were originally released weekly on my social media—where they are still available (@willowsfield)—spanning over four months of my rambling thoughts. Please enjoy, if you so choose.
By Willow J. Fields2 years ago in Fiction
Story Pic No. 11-15
I take a lot of walks in my spare time. Thankfully, I live in a beautiful neighborhood of a fascinating city (Seattle), which I love to explore; so, whether it's to stretch my legs, gather my thoughts or simply just to get some fresh air, I spend a lot of time walking. I started writing these ‘Story Pic’ flash fiction pieces when—after some self-reflection—I realized that most of my new ideas for current WIPs manifested while I was on one of my walks. So, like any good American, I turned something natural that I did to relax into work. Below are the fruits of my endeavor, each story inspired by something that I came across while exploring and took a picture of (as one might infer from the series title). The stories were originally released weekly on my social media—where they are still available (@willowsfield)—spanning over four months of my rambling thoughts. Please enjoy, if you so choose.
By Willow J. Fields2 years ago in Fiction
Story Pic No. 6 - 10
I take a lot of walks in my spare time. Thankfully, I live in a beautiful neighborhood of a fascinating city (Seattle), which I love to explore; so, whether it's to stretch my legs, gather my thoughts or simply just to get some fresh air, I spend a lot of time walking. I started writing these ‘Story Pic’ flash fiction pieces when—after some self-reflection—I realized that most of my new ideas for current WIPs manifested while I was on one of my walks. So, like any good American, I turned something natural that I did to relax into work. Below are the fruits of my endeavor, each story inspired by something that I came across while exploring and took a picture of (as one might infer from the series title). The stories were originally released weekly on my social media—where they are still available (@willowsfield)—spanning over four months of my rambling thoughts. Please enjoy, if you so choose.
By Willow J. Fields2 years ago in Fiction
Vapors of a Lost Dream
Dad was getting married. Again. It was his third marriage but his first to take place on a beach. Chronicles Beach, named as such because of the centuries of adventures that had concluded upon its shores; Dad was to be another of its casualties.
By Willow J. Fields2 years ago in Fiction
For the Love of the Fight
Milo swung his gleaming sword before him, fending off the swarms of snarling, grotesque monsters with mighty thrusts. He was a noble squire—no, a knight! —and he was the most skilled fighter in all the realms, the champion against evil, in whatever shape it may come.
By Willow J. Fields2 years ago in Fiction
The Thaw
To call the body of water in the center of my hometown a lake, was to be very generous. Walking the circumference of its shores wasn’t as much a day hike as it was a pleasant stroll; what's more, standing at any point around its perimeter, one could easily see the opposite side, even on a foggy day. I always thought of it as more of a pond, than a lake. Large pond, small lake. Of course, if it had been any smaller, the ‘last big freeze,’ might’ve actually happened.
By Willow J. Fields3 years ago in Fiction
Utilities Not Included
Just a few moments left. She paced back and forth, furrowing a rut into the concrete floor of the dimly lit backstage; her skin was morphed into a ghastly, ghoulish hue by the crimson signal light above the stage door. She couldn't tear her eyes from its sanguine glow. Any moment now, it would indicate that it was her time to take the stage and submit her performance-application. In a few short seconds, she’d hear her name and the roar of the studio audience, piped into the performance chamber via omnipresent loudspeakers. Of course, the judges would remain silent.
By Willow J. Fields3 years ago in Fiction
Out to Pasture
Man trudged across the field, rifle in one hand, a box of shells in the other, going to kill the white bull God had given him. The grass was sodden with dew, leaving dark stains on Man’s boots as he approached the bull, standing in a fairy circle of small mushrooms. The bovine snorted a discontented puff of steamy air into the cool afternoon, twisting its horned head to better watch Man and his rifle. The bull’s large brown eyes appraised him forlornly.
By Willow J. Fields3 years ago in Fiction
The Perennial Automaton
Warm sunlight reflected off the bedraggled robot as it trudged across the warped apartment rooftop, tending to their garden of raised beds and potted plants. The faded orange plating of the automaton’s carapace contrasted sharply against the verdant foliage that crowded each ramshackle bed of soil. They watered and pruned and, locating two withered ferns, deposited the plants with reverential care in the compost bin in the corner; the final resting place for the broken down organics.
By Willow J. Fields3 years ago in Fiction
Brown-Out Immaturity
The presents wrapped in brilliant neon shades clustered together under the tree as if sheltering from the rain. They were big and small, thin and floppy, thick and bulky; boxes clad in red paper and blue and gifts caked in glitter and tied with fine ribbon. Stacked atop one another in a precarious pile, they were a mound of joyful mystery at the foot of the conifer.
By Willow J. Fields3 years ago in Fiction
Unjust Desserts
Gray’s muscles were sore, his feet ached and his boots were wet. He desperately wanted to sit down, to take a break and eat a little grub. His stomach had been a taut drum of hunger since that morning, when his breakfast of two stale biscuits had failed to make any dent in his longing. Every step through the thick, clinging mud that carpeted the trenches he slogged through sapped his strength even more.
By Willow J. Fields3 years ago in Fiction
