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.
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Everyday Drabbles
Short StoryA drabble is a very short story one hundred words long. No more, no less. They are designed for maximum impact in the least amount of space. For 2019, I'll be posting a drabble every day.
