Hugh J. O'Donnell

She went to The Old Churchyard every night. The old graveyard was long abandoned, and most townsfolk stayed well away, even in daylight. But she would go, and dance with the ghosts under the moonlight. She would listen to their songs and stories. She’d ask them questions. She wrote things down.
The ghosts were hungry, but the thing they most wanted was news. Were their relatives doing well? What became of their descendants? She answered their questions where she could.
She was not a witch. She was a historian, who believed in primary sources, even if it made publication difficult.

This story originally appeared in Everyday Drabbles, a daily free fiction project on Wattpad. Visit the link for more free stories. And if you enjoy my writing, support my work by buying me a coffee!

The first collection of Everyday Drabbles stories, Winter, is now available as an eBook from Amazon! Enjoy over 90 short stories for less than two dollars!

“JACOB KAZDY, YOUR TIME HAS COME.”
He expected dying. His doctors had told him the cancer was going to win in the end, and he made his peace. He was ready.
He hadn’t expected to actually meet Death, but there he was, larger than life, skeletal and black robed, holding a… wait.
“Is that a wicker basket?” Death sighed, a sound like wind moving through winter trees.
“THIS IS A CORNUCOPIA, SYMBOLIC OF LIFE AND FERTILITY. YOU WILL NOTICE IT IS EMPTY.”
“Where’s your scythe?”
“BUDGET CUTS,” Death said, and whacked Jacob with the cornucopia, a bit harder than necessary.

This story originally appeared in Everyday Drabbles, a daily free fiction project on Wattpad. Visit the link for more free stories. And if you enjoy my writing, support my work by buying me a coffee!

The first collection of Everyday Drabbles stories, Winter, is now available as an eBook from Amazon! Enjoy over 90 short stories for less than two dollars!