Ruth Donnelly

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jan, 2020

Stories (4)

4 Stories

65 karma pts

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“June 21, 1976” by Ruth Donnelly

Submitted to Contest #99

June 21, 1976June 21, 1976 is a day that I would like to forget but I can't. On June 21st in the year o 1976, my husband and I rented a cottage on a quiet lake...and I do mean quiet. There was not another soul or cottage around.We both had been working very hard at our respective careers. Christopher, my husband is a psychologist/life therapist. Myself, a fledgling writer who enjoys writing horror stories . Well I never suspected my horror stories would come to life.The cottage itself was as plain as they come. No indoor plumbing...no electr...

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“The Donnellys of Lucan” by Ruth Donnelly

Submitted to Contest #80

I was introduced to the Donnelly family of Lucan, Ontario by my cousin, Richard Coulbeck. He showed me two books about this family entitled " The Black Donnellys" and Vengeance of the Black Donnellys. They were poorly written by a Thomas P. Kelley, visioning only one side of the feud that occurred back in the nineteenth century. It was a feud between neighbours of Irish background and the majority of the Irish people who emigrated from Ireland back in the nineteenth century settled mostly in the Middlesex County of the Province of Ontario...

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“Pine Hills Graveyard” by Ruth Donnelly

Submitted to Contest #65

"This has got to be the most boring stake-out that I have been on." Constable Peter Davies of the Odyssey police force, sighed. He took a sip of his coffee. "I realize that, Peter..." Constable Michael Donnelly nodded in agreement and had a sip of his own coffee. He added: " But there has been a report..."He paused in his thoughts: "Actually several reports of graveyard thefts. Someone has been digging up graves and stealing precious artifacts." "Someone?" Peter wondered, "or something?" "Good question." Michael nodded. Constable Michael D...

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“The Special Train” by Ruth Donnelly

Submitted to Contest #27

He stood on the platform; his fedora hat pulled down to shade his face. His shoes had been polished, the pants cleaned and creased, the plaid shirt pressed. He wore a brown corduroy suit jacket that had a torn sleeve but that didn't bother him. After all, he had to change his disguise. The crowd about him mingled about the platform as the train pulled into the station. The man felt comfortable, almost invisible and that he was thankful for. The crowd had been buying tickets to their destination, grabbing snacks and reading material. A bus pu...

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