Hugh J. O'Donnell

The Worm Witch sat and felt her children dig through the soil, breaking apart and enriching the earth. She felt the warmth of their passage and judged them to be good. She blessed them with her magic: The power of rotten leaves and soft rain.
Autumn was her time. As she rose and brushed the dirt from her hands she reflected that what was pleasant was not the same as what was necessary.
Few would call her beautiful, but she cast her spells through the forest’s leaf-strewn paths; renewing it, preparing it for the long winter and the next spring.

“Witch’s Butter” by pellaea is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

Everyday Drabbles © 2025 by Hugh J. O’Donnell is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.

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The daughter of the vampire’s latest victim was a girl of twenty so beautiful that he decided to abandon his long-term plans and take her for his new Bride.
He approached her as she lay in bed, summoning all his dark powers. But something was wrong.
She sat up and brandished the crucifix hidden beneath the covers.
The monster recoiled and felt the tip of a stake press against his back.
“Count, you’re under arrest.” She flashed her badge and slapped a pair of sanctified handcuffs over his wrists.
She hated these sting operations, but the payoff was always satisfying.

“Vampire Killing Kit” by JoshBerglund19 is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

Everyday Drabbles © 2025 by Hugh J. O’Donnell is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.

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The Silent King sat on his throne, reigning.
All about him, the palace bustled. Ministers saw to their purviews and clerks filed reports. Judges saw justice done. The kingdom ticked along smoothly.
It was never said, but the king was famous for his laziness. He’d learned at his father’s side and watched the man work himself into the grave.
He spent his first decade building a bureaucracy he could wind up like clockwork. Government became so self-sufficient he found himself without any duties at all, which pleased him.
He died sitting on his throne, and his subjects left him there.

“Dead Kings” by photographymontreal is marked with Public Domain Mark 1.0.

Everyday Drabbles © 2025 by Hugh J. O’Donnell is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.

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As the final test of their apprenticeship, Shadow Keepers are given a sturdy box with a heavy lock. They’re instructed to never let it be opened, lest the darkness inside be loosed on the world.
They are also given the key.
Some apprentices open the box on their first night. Others dutifully guard it for years. But eventually, everyone succumbs to the temptation.
Inside, they find a letter for them from their master, along with the letter their master received, and so on back to the founding of their order.
They learn their true history, along with their real purpose.

“Caddy, tea” by Auckland Museum Collections is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

Everyday Drabbles © 2025 by Hugh J. O’Donnell is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.

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The restless dead lay in their coffins, unable to rise. They could not return to the long repose of death, staring up at the darkness of their coffin lids like a sleepless night that never ends. They called to one another, but the dirt muffled everything except the sound of footsteps from mourners above leaving flowers or stones upon their graves.
They were waiting for something, but even they did not know what. They lay caught between life and death, with only the memories of their misspent lives for company.
Someday, the necromancer would remember where he dropped that crystal.

“St. Nahi’s Is An 18th-century Church And Graveyard in Dundrum” by infomatique is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0.

Everyday Drabbles © 2025 by Hugh J. O’Donnell is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.

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The villagers called her Wolf Girl and she pretends she didn’t notice. She lives alone at the forest’s edge, after plague took the rest of her family.
Her father raised dogs, and she’d learned something of the trade at his knee before he passed. She never would’ve been an apprentice, but they were poor, and couldn’t wait for a son to arrive.
That first winter, she’d heard hungry wolves howling in the forest. A wolf is just a big dog, she thought. And she refused to be food for anyone else.
The hounds she raises are fierce, strong, and loyal.

“Wolfhound” by Lennart Tange is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

Everyday Drabbles © 2025 by Hugh J. O’Donnell is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.

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The aliens looked mostly human, but there were just enough differences that humans felt uncomfortable around them. They got the unofficial nickname ‘Heebie-Jeebies.’
They were unfailingly polite, interested in our culture and technology, and willing to share theirs. But humans who met them were invariably creeped out for reasons they couldn’t properly explain.
Considerable diplomatic effort was placed to hide the term from the visiting aliens. But eventually, their lead envoy asked the human ambassador what the slur meant and he reluctantly explained what it meant.
They smiled, showing too many teeth. “Thank Divinity! We thought it was just us!”

“Space – Messier Galaxy” by Trodel is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0.

Everyday Drabbles © 2025 by Hugh J. O’Donnell is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.

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I hauled the cage into the catapult’s bucket, taking care avoid the flailing, muck-crusted claws. My sergeant caught the look on my face and smacked me on the arm.
“Better loading the catapult than on it, eh?” He said. But his smile was forced.
The necromancers whose service we had been pressed into were nothing if not innovators. The cage would break apart on impact, releasing the ghouls trapped inside behind enemy lines. It flanked and demoralized the enemy in a single action.
It works on us, too, I thought as I released the lever and sent back yesterday’s casualties.

“catapulte” by rey perezoso is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0.

Everyday Drabbles © 2025 by Hugh J. O’Donnell is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.

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The castle apothecary heard a somehow annoyed croak, and looked up from his crucible. The largest toad he’d ever seen was sitting on the bench and staring at him. It was wearing the court magician’s hat of office.
“Magus?” he asked, hoping this wasn’t another prank.
“I do not wish to talk about it,” the toad said. “I have a list of ingredients for you. I shall cast the spell to break the curse myself, but I need you to brew the potion. You will find it is well within your capacity.”
The apothecary smirked. “Fighting with the missus again?”

“Green Toad” by kaibara87 is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

Everyday Drabbles © 2025 by Hugh J. O’Donnell is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.

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