October 2026 short stories

Two short Halloween stories. These stories are the sole property of Yi Ching and AI was not used in writing them

Taking Flight

The bell tolled, signaling the end of the period for the thirteen apprentices. “Any final questions before we break for lunch?” asked their instructor Ursula, who was feeling hungry, having skipped breakfast because she overslept.

Endora raised her right hand.

Ursula sighed, she is always asking questions; what is it this time she thought but didn’t say,

“Yes, Endora.”

“Why do we always ride on brooms. Why not just any old pole or tree branch?”

“It’s just tradition,” answered Ursula, hoping that that answer would suffice, but of course it didn’t with Endora.

“But traditions have origins,” Endora persisted.

Must always encourage their curiosity, Ursula reminded herself. “There are a number of explanations offered,” replied Ursula patently. ”One is that because most witches were women, and the broom was associated with sweeping which was women’s work around the house, it became associated with witches.”

“That’s so sexist!” exclaimed Endora.

“Another is of more scatological origin,” continued Ursula.

“What’s that mean?” asked Endora.

“I’ll explain it to you in private after lunch,” said Ursula. The other apprentices’ ears perked up.

“How about the rest of us?” asked Circe.

“All right,” Ursula said. “But let’s eat first.”

After lunch, Ursula gathered the class around her under an oak tree outside of the dining hall. She concluded her explanation, which had many of the girls tittering, by saying, “And all this because witches, back then were thought to be depraved, lustful, satanic women who indulged in obscene rituals to gain their powers. Of course actually, then as now, the Grand Coven Master casts the spells to endow the brooms with the power of flight.

And remember next week is the midnight coven under the full moon when Grand Master Malvolia comes to celebrate the halfway point of your apprenticeship by casting those flight spells on your very own broom that you will need to provide. You can find a wide selection of brooms to purchase on line. Any questions?”

“Does it matter what the broom is made of?” asked Morgana. “Plastic versus straw or actual corn broom?”

“Well, wood handles and corn broom or straw are more traditional, but no, any broom will be fine but it has to be one that you obtain yourself, not just one taken from your home.”

Endora raised her hand. “I’ve been thinking.”

Of course you do, thought Ursula

“You said brooms became traditional because they symbolized woman’s work around the home sweeping and so became associated with witches.”

“That is one theory,” Ursula replied, wondering where her inquisitive apprentice was going with this.

“Mops were also used by women to clean up around the home. Has a mop ever been used?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” said Ursula. “I would think all those mop strings or rags would become frayed and tattered very quickly in flight.”

Endora continued, pursuing her line of thought, “If it became symbolic of woman’s house work, then how about something more modern like a vacuum cleaner?”

Endora really has an inventive mind, thought Ursula. “That has also never been tried as far as I know,” she replied.

“Do you know if there’s a rule that would prevent its use instead of a broom?” Endora asked.

“Not that I’m aware of. I just don’t think anyone’s ever tried.”

“So there may be a bit of latitude. Thank you, Ms. Ursula,” said Endora. “Now I’m late for my next class.” And she retrieved her skateboard that had been propped outside the classroom door and sped off —leg-powered—to her next class.

“Well,” remarked Ursula to the apprentices who remained, “After next week’s mid-semester coven you will all probably be literally flying around the campus.”

“I think that I’ll go traditional,” said Morgana. “A wood handle and real broom straw, even though it’ll be more expensive than a plastic broom from a discount store.”

“Good for you. I prefer the more traditional myself,” said Ursula, while wondering what Endora meant by ‘bit of latitude?’

The following week the thirteen apprentices sat nervously in a row holding their brooms and waiting for Grand Master Malvolia to call them up one by one with their brooms to have the power of flight conferred.

“Where’s your broom, Endora?” asked Circe. “And what’s that you’re holding under your black cloak? Oh she just called my name to go up. I have to go. You’ll be next.” Circe knelt and presented her broom to Grand Master Malvolia to have it blessed and to receive the flight spell, then straddled her broom and flew, silhouetted against the full moon, around the gathered covens in celebration, before alighting back at her seat.

Endora was next. She too knelt before Malvolia snd held up a black disc-like object that she retrieved from under her cloak to be blessed.

“What’s this, Endora, and where is your broom?” ask the puzzled Malvolia.

“It’s the modern version of a broom,” said Endora. “It is called a Roomba and it also cleans the house like a broom. Please bless it and cast the spell to give it the power of flight.”

“Oh, this is highly irregular,” said Malvolia. “I will have to consult the rules.” She conjured up the book of rules, found the section that dealt with flight and read carefully.” (Of course, Endora had checked the rules earlier using AI and felt confident.) Finally Malvolia closed the book, set it down. and said, “I find nothing that precludes your use of this Roomba instead of a broom. I must say this is an entirely new experience for me, but I will bless it and give your Roomba flight.”

And after the spell was cast, Endora leaped on the Roomba, standing balanced confidently on it as if it were her skateboard, and soared off to circle the gathering, looping as she passed in front of the full moon, before skillfully landing it by her seat, to the applause. admiration, and envy of her fellow apprentices.

Homeless

Why do you wish to join us?

I’ve become homeless and I thought perhaps I could move in with you until I get a new home.

Tell us why you became homeless.

You ask ‘why?’ It’s not like it was something that I chose to do.

Okay, if you must be picky. How did you become homeless?

I was quite happy in that old house on Barren Hill. Wouldn’t have moved. But one day two men came to the house and I heard them talking.
When was that?

You know that time really has no meaning for us, so I’m not sure. Could have been six months or two years. Anyway one man said, “It is old and would need some repairs and renovations, but just look at that view all the way to the lake and then with forest and the mountains beyond. Priceless. And the town is close by.” The other man said, “I’ve heard some stories about this property.” The first man replied, “You know every town has its stories and legends. If you don’t want to renovate, you could just tear it down and build a brand new contemporary home.” And the second man said, “I’ll need to think about that. But you’re right about the view. Just gorgeous.” They may have talked some more, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying since they had moved outside..

What did you think? You weren’t curious or worried?

Nothing happened for a while and so I forgot about it. And what could I have done? Anyway, things went on as before until one day workmen showed up and they cleared out the bushes around the house and the property. Shortly after that heavy equipment arrived and I remembered what the men had said about tearing down my house. So that night after the workers left, I managed to introduce water into the fuel tanks. In the morning there was a lot of swearing and blaming when the men tried to start the engines. No work was done that day. I did the same thing when they tried again and again they couldn’t get the engines going. They thought that some kids were playing tricks so they posted a night watchman.

And the watchman spotted you when you tried a third time?

Yes, and it was really funny to hear him scream when he did. Haven’t had that much fun since the last couple that rented the house fled in the middle of the night. But when the watchman told the others what he saw, they brought in a priest to do an exorcism and that led to my having to move. Even though I’m a ghost and not a demon, we still are bound by the some of the same rules and so I had to stop sabotaging their machines and had to leave. And that’s how I became homeless.

Did they tear down your house after you left?

It was really sad. I’ve got so many memories attached to the house. I knew every plank, timber, and nail. I stayed as long as I could. All gone.

And so here you are. Asking us to let you join us.

But not permanently. Just until they finish building. Then I will move back.

Wait a minute. The house is gone and that was the connection that kept you there. You can’t just haunt a new house. There’s got to be an attachment.

I died in the garden while weeding the cabbages. The rules say that gives me enough of a connection to the property that it qualifies me to return. After all, I was a lawyer once and when I pleaded my case to the Hereafter Court, they ruled in my favor.. So please, may I stay here? Temporarily?

What’s the sentiment of the graveyard? Shall we let this wandering spirit stay for a time? Any discussion? Yes? Oh good point. You can stay if you do not do any haunting. That’s reserved for us permanent residents. Especially with Halloween just around the corner.

I don’t have any choice or good options. I agree.

Any other questions or discussion? If not, all in favor say boo or rattle your bones; opposed, wail. The boos have it. You are welcome to stay with us temporarily here in Green Lawn.

Thank you. And when the house is finished and I move in, you will all be welcome to come and celebrate the first Halloween there. It’ll be a haunting to remember, especially for the new owners—ho ho ho ho ha ha ha ha!

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You can find more similar short stories by Yi Ching in a compendium entitled “Short and Shorter Stories” on Amazon.

May 2026. Story

This story is the property of Yi Ching and was written without the use of AI.

It’s Raining

“It’s sure looks like it’s going to storm,” Mary said to her husband, looking through their kitchen window, trimmed with guazy white curtains that were tied back to the sides of the frame, and out into their side yard where she kept a plot of vegetables. They lived in a small white bungalow on a half acre lot situated on a side road, optomistically named Third Avenue, coming off Main Street in Praireview, a town of plus or minus two thousand, an hour and a half drive out from the Big City. Their lot was at the end of the avenue on the edge of the town.

“Winds’s starting to pick up too,” replied Bob, her husband. “But there’s been no tornado warning. Still I’d better bring in the lawn chairs or at least to put them in the tool shed. Don’t want them blowing around.” He opened the screen door and crossed the pine boards flooring the front porch. The floor was painted grey and squeaked as he stepped on it. There were two varnished wooden rockers on the porch. After going down two steps to the walkway and out to the yard, Bob began to fold up the aluminum-tubed lounge chairs with green plastic fabric straps.

Mary went out with him to the front yard and looked up at the sky. “We could use some rain for the corn.” There was a patch of corn planted in the side yard along with squash, beans, and lettuce. Nothing like fresh corn picked and immediately popped into boiling water. But corn harvest was still a month away. So rain would be welcome. Just not too heavy and not too windy. The wind was from the southwest, and the approaching clouds it carried looked dense and dark, laden with moisture picked up from the warm waters of the Gulf. “Grass is looking a little dry too,” she noted. The leaves of the oak tree that had shaded the lawn chairs began to rustle in the wind.

“Won’t have to water if it rains,” Bob replied as he opened the tool shed door and made room for the lawn chairs. “Been a hot, dry summer. Rain will help cool things down.” He bolted the shed doors.

“Let’s go in,” said Mary. “The storm’s almost here.”

“You want to sit on the porch and watch it?” asked Bob.

“Not really. I’ve seen enough storms. You know I’m afraid of lightning. But you can.” They could hear the rumbles approaching.

She went in, leaving Bob sitting in one of the rockers. “Want some iced tea?” she called after a while from the kitchen.

“Thanks. I’m good,” he replied.

“Stop bragging,” she joked.

“Good one!”

Now it was getting darker and the thunder was louder. Wind and the first drops of rain arrived, fat drops that plopped, spotting the walkway. Then more arrived, wetting it down and tapping on the roof. The rain started to blow in on the porch and Bob gave up, opened the screen door and went in.

“Got to be too much for you?” asked Mary looking up with a smile that said ‘I told you so’ from the chicken parts she was preparing to fricassee for dinner.

“Was getting wet,” he replied.

Flashes of lightning quickly followed by the boom of thunder. A steady drumming on the roof.

“I’ll make sure the windows on the south side of the house are closed,” Bob said.

“Thanks. Good idea.”

There was a thump on the roof. “What was that?” Mary called out. Then another heavier one.

“Probably something the wind picked up,” said Bob from the living room.

More thumps along with the drumming of the raindrops.

Mary looked out the window into the rain and screamed, “Oh my God!”

Bob came running, “What happened? Are you okay Mary?”

She pointed out the window, “It’s raining cats and dogs!”

“Yeah,” Bob said, “It’s a hard rain all right.”

“No look,” Mary said. “It’s really cats and dogs!”

And indeed, a scattering of cats and dogs of various sizes, colors, and breeds were falling out of the sky along with the raindrops. As they looked on in awe, they saw Chihuahuas, Siamese, Beagles, Persians, Pugs, Shepards, tabbies, French bulldogs, Burmese, Abyssinians, Poodles, mutts and more landing in their yard. And all the while they could hear intermittent soft and heavy thuds on their roof, while lightning flashed and thunder cracked almost immediately following.

The cats were coming down lightly and, with their nine lives and their agility, shook themselves off after landing and looked for cover from the downpour. The smaller dogs, terrier-sized, splashed down, bounced a little, lay on the ground a short while looking dazed then got to their feet, shaking the rain off. A Saint Bernard came crashing down into the corn patch with a heavy thud and just lay on the battered corn stalks, whining and twitching.

“Oh poor dog,” Mary exclaimed. “We’ve got to help him.”

“Better wait till after the rain,” said Bob. “We don’t want to get hit by anything that heavy. I just hope our roof holds up.”

Many of the cats sought shelter on their porch as did some of the dogs, all too wet and shocked to growl or hiss at each other. The deluge of animals seemed to go on forever but it was actually just seven minutes, though the rain continued for longer. When the worse of the storm passed, Bob and Mary went out to survey the damage, carefully opening their side door so that none of the cats would get pass them. There were other large dogs that had either not survived their fall or were too injured to move. Their neighbors across the road, Sam and his wife Joanie, had also come out.

“What the hell happened?’ Sam called. “Look at these poor dogs and the cats are all over the place. What a mess.” He took out his phone to take pictures.

Mary had knelt to comfort the Saint Bernard who looked up at her with sad eyes and whined. She said, “I’ll call Dr. Long,” the vet who lived in the next town twenty miles away.

“And I’ll call Judd (the mayor),” said Bob.

“No really, there was a storm and the dogs and cats just fell out of the sky,” Mary said on the line to Dr. Long. “No, this is not a prank. I’m telling you there is a St. Bernard who is badly hurt and some other big dogs too. No, I have not been drinking! Please come, the dogs are hurt and really need your care. Look, I’ll put our neighbor Sam on and he’ll verify what happened.” She motioned to Sam who took the phone to speak with Dr. Long.

The mayor’s phone was busy and when Bob finally got through, his call was answered by Sally, the mayor’s secretary. After he explained why he was calling, Sally said, “Yes, Judd knows. Everybody’s been calling. No, he doesn’t have a plan yet. When he does, he’ll let you and everyone else know.”

Someone must have called the news desk at KORN, a television station in the Big City which dispatched a news team that arrived in the lingering sunset after the storm had passed. By then the cats had pretty much scattered, and Dr. Long was tending to the stricken dogs. Some of the most badly hurt he euthanized, including the Saint Bernard. The reporter took eyewitness statements and names and viewed the cell phone videos and pictures, copying them.

It made the regional news the next day and then the national news as an oddity. Meteorologists at the state university were interviewed and said they’d never heard of anything like this. Falls of fish and frogs, yes though very rarely. Yes, small tornadoes or water spouts could suck up water containing the animals from ponds and then deposit them over land. But dogs and cats? Never. And there had been no reports of missing pets either. On social media, many claimed it was all a hoax, the videos and pictures faked with the aid of AI. Others opined that it was mass hysteria. It was a miracle sent as an omen said others, but foretelling what? The news cycle moved on.

Mary and Bob buried the Saint Bernard in a corner of their lot with a simple marker. There was no corn to harvest that summer. And they had been adopted by two of the cats, a tabby and a Burmese.