Hugh J. O'Donnell

The old mystic lived in the swamp for so long that he became a legend to the villages surrounding villages, which avoided the deep swamp for fear of witches and monsters. They were no match for him.
He had been a hero once, forced into hiding by the Dark Lord’s ascension. The spirits gave him a prophecy: He would train the hero would save the world, but only if he stayed hidden.
The mystic felt the horrors inflicted by the Dark Lord’s armies, but told himself that it was necessary to wait.
When the boy arrived, he was a disappointment.

“A house in the swamp” by Marit & Toomas Hinnosaar is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

Everyday Drabbles © 2025 by Hugh J. O’Donnell is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 

Last night, the girl wrote her phone number on a napkin and stuffed it brazenly into his pants pocket before sauntering out of the bar. He couldn’t remember the reason she couldn’t just text it to him , but it had seemed like a good idea at the time, and he hadn’t been complaining.
In the piercing light of day, he waited for his hangover to pass enough to read it. He spread the cheap paper out on the bedside table.
‘I poisoned your drink. Call this number within twelve hours if you want to live.’
He sighed. Every damn time.

“Abstract White Crumpled Napkin Folds Pattern” by shaire productions is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

Everyday Drabbles © 2025 by Hugh J. O’Donnell is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 

When the cadre of Orks escaped the front line, they stole a boat and sailed until they found a place that had never heard of the Dark Lord.
They set down their pikes and clubs and made a new life for themselves. It was Shorty who suggested they open up a restaurant.
They hadn’t seen much cuisine in their time fighting, but they made up for their inexperience with enthusiasm and brotherhood.
When Ripper hung the sign and they opened the doors, they stood looking into an uncertain future. But if nothing else, meat would always be on the menu.

Image by Thew Adams.

Everyday Drabbles © 2025 by Hugh J. O’Donnell is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 

Through everything, he maintained his garden. In the winter, while the election results were coming in, he ordered seeds.
In spring, during the early days of the regime’s expansion, he planted. His neighbors asked how he would fight.
In summer, during the protests, he watered and weeded. His neighbors asked why he wasn’t out protesting with them.
In autumn, when the crackdowns started, he harvested vegetables. He stored what would keep and canned the rest. His neighbors hid in their basement.
The next winter, when the store shelves were bare, he shared with his neighbors so they could keep fighting.

“garden” by drewfish is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

Everyday Drabbles © 2025 by Hugh J. O’Donnell is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 

The astronaut stood at the top of the ladder, waiting for clearance to descend to the lunar surface. He thought about the significance of humanity’s return to The Moon, and the way history moved in cycles like an orbit.
He placed his boots on the rock in reverent silence for those explorers who came before.
The astronaut bounded across the surface, heading toward an unusual iron deposit. He stopped in front of the anomaly his mouth going dry. Capcom shouted in his ear, demanding visual confirmation.
Arthur reached out a bulky white glove to pull the sword from the regolith.

“moon” by Slideshow Bruce is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

Everyday Drabbles © 2025 by Hugh J. O’Donnell is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 

For his crimes against Olympus, Zeus decreed that Sisyphus would spend eternity pushing a boulder uphill, never resting. The other gods agreed it was a just punishment, and promptly forgot about the mortal.
But as the centuries passed, Hades found that he had to bring in larger and larger boulders as the mortal gained strength from pushing constantly pushing the stone uphill.
The god of the underworld sent messages up to his siblings on Mount Olympus, but the scrolls went unread.
Until one day, the Palace of the Gods shook as Sisyphus put his shoulder against the mountain and pushed.

“Perfect Balance Boulder, California Desert” by moonjazz is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0.