Hugh J. O'Donnell

She found the pin-back button sitting in the bottom of her grandmother’s jewelry box. She almost pricked herself as she fished it out.
It had been brightly painted, once. But he red white and blue front was faded and scratched. The blue ‘VOTE’ was still clear, but the name underneath it had worn away.
She handed it to her grandmother. “Why do you keep this crusty old thing with all your nice jewelry?”
The old woman looked at it, her eyes getting misty. “It’s from the first time I voted. I keep it to remember all the years I couldn’t.”

“File:Shirley Chisholm for President ‘Catalyst for Change’.jpg” by Tomwsulcer is marked with CC0 1.0.

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

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He made a wish on a shooting star. He wished without thinking: for Success, Wellness, and Happiness.
The meteor had no power to grant such things. But something, somewhere, heard him and the universe was rearranged.
He stumbled across the perfect investment guide in the library, he ran into a personal trainer looking for clients, and his new neighbor invited him to her next game night.
But the book languished on his bedside table. He put off booking his first training session. He forgot about the game night. The wish curdled.
And the demon gained strength from the wasted potential.

“shooting star 7 ’08” by friggy_30 is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

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

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We saw each other for the first time on a battlefield in ancient Greece, but promptly forgot it in the haze of fighting.
I next met him in a bazaar decades later and hundred of miles away. After our third encounter in a century, we recognized each other for what we were.
Immortals are rare, and guard their secrets jealously.
Over the centuries, I sent my resources after him, and he did the same to me. It became something like a game, with move and countermove. Slowly, we even became friends.
And finally, after millennia, we shared our first kiss.

“Chess: The Immortal Losing Game” by chase_elliott is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

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

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On Halloween Night, the dead roamed the living world. The villagers sheltered on the hallowed ground of the church as ghouls and malevolent spirits raged outside. The priest tried to comfort and distract them with homilies and hymns, but he was no match for the groaning zombies and wailing ghosts outside.
In the light of dawn, the villagers surveyed the damage. The air was hazy with smoke and smelled like rotting flesh. Trash and debris littered the streets. But what had been destroyed could be rebuilt, and the villagers counted their blessings.
At east nobody was playing Christmas music yet.

“Mist in Queensbury churchyard 31.10.2010” by Tim Green aka atoach is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

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

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I sat struggling to come up with a new story but finding myself utterly without inspiration. My muse sat across from me, smiling.
When I first found my muse, I thought she would be a blessing. I thought she would fill my head with ideas, uncorking some font of inspiration in my brain.
But I was wrong. Muses don’t give out ideas, they eat stories. It’s the finished product that is important. And mine was always hungry.
I hurriedly typed with bandaged fingers, hoping to pick up brilliance along the way. It was a bad idea to make her wait.

“20090823-Typewriter-2” by rahego is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

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

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The fishermen of the coast all avoided the sunken ruins. The fish were plentiful there, darting among coral that grew on the lost city’s tumbled stones. But the fishermen believed they were cursed.
They would share reports of boats getting caught in sudden storms or foundering on hidden shoals in the area. They told tales of fools pulling up ancient treasures, only to be destroyed by them. And even whispered ghost stories of malevolent gods living int he sunken depths, whispering madness.
But when the pirates came, the ruins were the one place that their ships would not pursue them.

“Cruising over the sunken city” by GOC53 is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

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

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The monster lived in phone lines. It was a being of waves as much as particles, too small to see but as large as a continent.
It traveled by wire, only spotted in glimpses. Its roar was the static of a dropped call and it left footprints in the tangle of switchboard wires.
But as the world upgraded to cell phones, its territory shrank. Soon it would have nowhere to hide.
Just when it seemed like the creature was doomed, it caught the end of a fiber optic cable and jumped into a digital plain where it could run forever.

“Spiderweb of phone lines, Bow, London, UK” by gruntzooki is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0.

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

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The former chancellor sat on his throne and felt the softness of the cushions. He suppressed a smile.
The coup had taken years of hard work. First he’d gained the trust of the old king. Then he’d put his own men in positions of power. Finally, he slid the knife in. But it was done, and now he was king.
It was time for his first meeting with his advisors. The doors opened and his fellow conspirators shuffled in. It struck him that if a man had seen something done, he could repeat it.
The king began making new plans.

“Polish throne at Warsaw Royal Castle” by Imane taken by User:Mathiasrex Maciej Szczepańczyk is licensed under CC BY 3.0.

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

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“Igor, are the rods in position?” The mad doctor shouted. Thunder rumbled and the wind tore at the little man clinging to the tower roof. A storm was coming, and it would be a bad one. He wished he was back at home beside a roaring fire. But that wasn’t the job.
“Yes, Master!” he called down as he double-checked the wiring. Igor scrambled back down the ladder.
“Then throw the switch! This storm will produce all the electricity I require to complete my experiment!”
Igor sighed. He wished his boss would swallow his pride and pay the electric bill.

“Vajdahunyad Castle, Hungary, Budapest” by prague.czech.photo 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 

Have a fabulous day!