ITALIAN HISTORICAL SHORT FICTION

Pietro’s Midnight Visitor

of Shadows and Spirits

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Cold Steel Italian Dagger

In the depths of a moonless night, Pietro lay in his bed, heavy with exhaustion. The chill of late autumn seeped into the room, clinging to the edges of his sleep. The sensation came slowly: weight pressing onto his chest, the creeping stillness of his limbs. The air thickened, and a sliver of something dark slipped into the room — a familiar visitor.

A figure emerged from the shadows, her gnarled silhouette shifting in the corner, her hollow eyes watching. Pietro remained still, the smile at the corner of the hag’s mouth tightening as she crept closer, her hands hovering just above his throat.

He closed his eyes. He was tired. She moved closer, her thin lips parted in something between a smile and a grimace, her fingers twitching to touch skin.

But Pietro wasn’t quite as asleep as he seemed.

His spirit slipped free from the weight of his flesh, surging towards her, rage bursting forth like a crack of thunder. The hag’s…