Hugh J. O'Donnell

I stood in the airlock, waiting for the lights to cycle to green. When the great doors opened, I let the pressure push me out into the vacuum.
My baby was waiting for me. The fighter didn’t look so bad, she just needed a little love to get back in the fight. I pulled a velcro-covered wrench from my belt and got to work.
When I was done, I slapped the hull and pushed away. The pilot lit the engines and headed back into the storm of laser fire. I hoped he wouldn’t do anything else stupid to my baby.

“Reconfiguring the Station” by NASA Goddard Photo and Video 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 Locktender’s Daughter lived in a little house alongside the canal with her father and assisted him with his work.
She was young and beautiful, and was the object of hopeful affection of many of the wild canallers as they waited for the the lock to fill or empty.
The boatmen were large and unsavory, and many in the town took the man to task for not being more protective of the girl. But she could handle herself.
When her wit or charm failed, she could rely on the great boathook she used to open and close the canal gates.

“20150829 31 Flight of Five Erie Canal Locks, Lockport, New York” by davidwilson1949 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 centuries, the other Elemental Schools mocked the Water Mages, saying they were only useful for running their baths and keeping their drinks cool.
The Hydromancers bore these insults with a placid demeanor. They wielded a power too subtle and dangerous to be displayed openly.
One day, their greatest prodigy lost her temper and set a single drop of water in an offending Earth Mage’s lungs. She demanded an apology while he gasped for air.
The student was nearly expelled, but her elders had to admit the other three schools treated them with a good deal more respect after that.

“Single egg shaped water droplet” by Luke Peterson Photography 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 pirate ship appeared, the crew prepared to repel boarders. The captain rubbed hands together solicitously and begged my assistance as a traveling mage. He couldn’t afford me, but I made an exception.
As the ship drew alongside, a cry went up among the superstitious defenders. The derelict vessel was crawling with skeletal horrors!
While the crew panicked, I looked for the necromancer. He was standing on the rotted forecastle, directing his puppets. I called forth a great wave and swamped the ship, knocking the pirates into the water.
Undead pirates are terrible to behold, but skeletons can’t swim.

“Pirate” by ~Sincere Stock~ 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 old lot had stood empty for years. It used to be a surviving patch of woods between the subdivisions, but the land was eventually cleared and leveled.
But nothing was ever built on it. Some of the developers had financial or legal troubles, other purchasers just felt so uncomfortable on the land that they sold it off after an on-site inspection.
The lot dreamed of haunted houses with shutters that creaked in the wind and porches that sagged like a disapproving frown. It could manage a mournful wail if the wind was just right.
For now, the lot waited.

“Empty Lot in Portland, OR” by danxoneil 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 famous spy and cryptographer passed away, they found a book of handwritten notes in his kitchen. It was his last gift to the world.
Codebreakers spent years poring over the notes online and arguing with each other about cyphers in forums, but couldn’t make heads or tails of the hidden meaning that was surely left in the text somewhere. When the world’s greatest cryptographers couldn’t solve the puzzle, they declared it a hoax.
In truth, there was no hidden code in the notebook. The old man had merely wanted to share his award-winning scone recipes with the world.

“Sugar cakes in the recipe books of Margaret Home Countess of Moray” by Unoquha is marked with CC0 1.0.

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

When we bought the beach house, I regretted it right away.
Every year, a little more of the beach eroded away. The debts and taxes just too much for us. I tried to sell it, but the market had dried up.
When the house fell into the sea, it was almost a relief.
“At least we won’t have to pay property taxes anymore,” I said.
There was a knock at the door. A strange little man with overly large eyes stood hunched on the porch. He handed me a damp business card.
“I’m the property assessor from Atlantis,” he explained.

“Beach House Exterior Colors” by DesignFolly.com is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0.

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

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