When the blight came, we burned our crops. It would be a hard winter, but hunger was better than what became of you from eating the strange fungus.
That winter, we rationed our stores, trying to make them last. But every day they dwindled, and we knew it wouldn’t be enough.
By Solstice we were trapped inside, buried by the driving snow. We huddled in the dark and listened to the howling wind and other things outside: Our neighbors, gone made or worse from eating tainted grain.
I thanked God we burned our harvest.
Then I heard my wife chewing.

“ergot” by Stiller Beobachter is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

My very short story collection, The Mountain’s Shadow is available now from Amazon and Smashwords!

Everyday Drabbles © 2024 by Hugh J. O’Donnell is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0