Jule Jessenberger

Welcome, dear reader! 🙂

This is a short story about one of my favourite characters:

Martha lives in Munich and owns an old shop in which she sells all kinds of witchy, occult-y things while hiding in plain sight as a part of the fairytale and myth community. Being a member of this hidden society means that she often encounters other characters from myths, legends, and folklore (mainly German or European ones) who need her help or maybe want to kill her.

Find out all about her chaotic adventures here.

The short story “Cursed In The Midnight Cemetery” was originally published in the German anthology “Mitternachtsgeschichten (Midnight Stories)” by Münchner Schreiberlinge e.V in 2023.

If you want to read it in German, I highly recommend buying the book because there are lots of cool, interesting, and spooky short stories in there, too:

BoD Bookshop

Now, have fun reading this little short. And let me know what you think.

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Cursed In The Midnight Cemetery

Martha took a deep breath. Nervousness prickled up within her like annoying ants as she strode towards the iron gate. Her purple cloak danced in the wind. Her short white hair shimmered in the moonlight. But she knew that it wasn’t her looks or the cool Victorian coat that irritated people the most. 

Her violet eyes, piercing anyone who stood in her path – just like the overeager graveyard attendant who was hurrying towards her with an old-fashioned lantern. 

“Who still uses one of those things these days?” she muttered and stopped when the man with a thick moustache dazzled her. 

“The cemetery is closed!” he barked at her.

She raised an eyebrow in amusement. “For humans, yes. But surely not for me, right?” 

The guard examined her, his eyes narrowing and his whiskers curving. This idiot had no idea who she was. 

“You’re new, aren’t you?” Martha sighed and adjusted her coat, inconspicuously checking her inside pocket. Good thing she remembered her umbrella. “Where’s Henrietta? I thought she always took the midnight shift.”

“Tell me your name, witch,” the guard demanded to know. She noticed how his grip on the lantern’s handle tightened. She also noticed how some protective runes glowed on the metal surface. Interesting. 

“Martha Oak, at your service,” she introduced herself with a grin and made a graceful bow. “I’m afraid I don’t have time for autographs. The job that takes me to the midnight cemetery is—”

“I was told about you, witch,” the guard interjected, blinding her once again with that desk lamp. 

“Oh, so you’ve heard about my undeniable charm. How nice.” Martha watched as the guard placed the lantern on the ground. A mocking smile played around her lips. 

“No, I was told to not let you into the cemetery. Not under any circumstances,” the guard continued, clapping his hands three times. The fire in the lantern shot high up, its the heat hitting her. But she didn’t even bat an eyelid. Immediately afterwards, the fire had disappeared, and an orange-glowing web wove through the night. Like an enormous spiderweb, it built up between the witch and the cemetery. 

Martha sighed and glanced at her pocket watch, that came out of one of her many coat pockets. She still had half an hour until midnight. 

“Listen, Mustachio, it’s all very cute with the protective shield,” she said, taking a miniature umbrella out of another pocket. “But unfortunately, I don’t have time for your gimmicks.” 

She threw the umbrella up in the air, flicking her fingers. The miniature grew to a normal size at lightning speed. It opened with a muffled flop as she skilfully caught it. With her umbrella, she walked through the magical shield as if it were a simple rain curtain. She was delighted to see that the guard’s jaw had dropped. 

“But … But…” he stammered and went away from Martha, who was strutting towards him while carelessly rotating her umbrella on her shoulder. 

“Don’t worry, this embarrassing incident will stay between us, okay?” She winked at him before a raven crowed. Rather accusatorially. She lifted her head and found the raven sitting on top of the gate. Its dark eyes gloated at her – as usual. 

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, you’re right. But I was hoping I wouldn’t have to hex him.”

“Hex me? What?!” The guard began to panic, but before he could run away, Martha reacted. She grabbed one of his feet with the handle of the umbrella and gave it a good tug, causing the poor guy to land hard on his bum. At the same time, she tapped him on the forehead with her other hand. 

“La, le, lu, only the man on the moon looks at you…” sang Martha, noticing the fear of death in the guard’s wide-open eyes. Then she snapped her fingers, and the guard fell into a sudden deep sleep. The raven crowed again, and Martha waved one hand in annoyance. “Oh no, he’s doing great. Just sleeping a bit at work.”

Then she jumped high into the air and sailed over the cemetery gate with her umbrella – much cooler than Mary Poppins. After she landed on the other side, she took a quick look around. Cemeteries had always been spooky places, and Martha loved them – the countless graves, the dark corners, the strange noises, and the groans of the dead.  

“Master, we don’t have time to nightdream!” the raven cawed, circling around her. “Let’s get this job done as quickly as possible.” 

Martha shrank her umbrella, stowed it away and then glanced at her pocket watch again. Damn, Ra-Ra was right. She should stop dawdling. A brief shiver of worry made her stomach tighten as she pulled her right coat sleeve down. She ignored the burning pain in her forearm. As you do. 

“Follow me, Master Oak. Hecate’s mausoleum is this way.” 

Martha followed Ra-Ra, her faithful familiar, and was amused to see how nervous the raven was. He kept looking around, stressed as if he was expecting an undead to pounce on him and tear him to pieces. To be fair, that was not an unfounded fear; after all, it had happened before. That was probably why Ra-Ra hated graveyards. 

In fact, he hated anything that could put him in danger. Yet he was a spirit soul bound to her soul. They had an eternal agreement, like every familiar had with their witch, and as long as Martha didn’t die, he wouldn’t die either. He would be reborn every time. But that was exactly what Ra-Ra dreaded the most. Martha, on the other hand, would be even more reckless. 

“Master Oak, I must confess that I find it extremely unsettling that you have accepted this assignment.” 

“Okay,” Martha said absent-mindedly as she let her gaze wander over the graves. “Do you think we might find some fresh graves to–?” 

“Master Oak! That’s exactly why I’m worried about you!” Ra-Ra fluttered right in front of Martha’s face, and his eyes bored into hers. “Surely you don’t dare experiment with the black arts! Remember how your mother–” 

“Ra-Ra, stop.” Martha grabbed the raven angrily. “Calm down! You know as well as I do that I would never do that again. Yes, I do tend to use unconventional methods and do stupid things sometimes, but I have sworn that I will never, ever, ever use black magic. So, how many times do we have to have this discussion, huh?” 

Ra-Ra looked down, embarrassed. Martha sighed and released him. Great, now she felt guilty for snapping at him. 

“But why do we need to steal a blue poppy then, Master Oak?” Ra-Ra wanted to know. 

“Because I–our customer urgently needs it. Let’s hurry now. We’re running out of time. It’s almost midnight.”

Martha hurried along, while Ra-Ra flew alongside her with suspicion on his eyes. He knew that she had lied to him. But he also knew that he couldn’t keep pestering her with questions if he didn’t want jer to kill him. She had already done that once out of sheer anger. Since then, he had watched his tongue more carefully. 

The midnight graveyard was huge, and it took a while before they arrived at Hecate’s mausoleum. A huge stone statue of the witch goddess stood in front of the entrance. As so often, she was depicted with three female forms: the virgin, the mother and the wise hag. Each form was more beautiful and elegant than the other. 

Martha bowed her head before Hecate’s image, for she was the primordial mother of all witchcraft. Three stone dogs were positioned next to the statue, snarling and guarding the entrance. 

“Okay, so we just have to go in there when it strikes midnight, pick the flowers and then we’re off again. Piece of cake!” she said to Ra-Ra, who was sitting on a gravestone and staring at her gloomily. 

“Aren’t you forgetting a little something, Master Oak?” the raven asked. She didn’t miss the sarcastic undertone. 

“When are you going to realise that I’m no longer a young witch rushing headlong into danger?” 

If Ra-Ra had eyebrows, he would have raised them contemptuously. Martha sighed and took a water spray gun out of her coat pocket. Ra-Ra tilted his head in confusion as he watched her unscrew the top of the gun. Then, she held the opening under his beak. 

“Go on, have a cry.” 

Ra-Ra stared at her, completely flabbergasted, before he puffed up his chest. 

“Do you think I’m going to cry like that on command? And without an explanation? Do you think I’ll do everything you ask of me?” 

Martha could have said that this is the job of a familiar, but Ra-Ra would certainly have lost it. 

“Do you really need me to explain to you now why I need your tears?” Martha pointed at the petrifying stone-dogs. “How else are you going to get past Cerberus, huh?” 

Ra-Ra snorted, narrowing his eyes. Then, he plucked the pistol from Martha’s hand. 

“Ow!” She gasped. The pistol fell to the floor with a clatter. But before she could pick it up, Ra-Ra grabbed her coat sleeve and tugged at it. 

“Hey! Hey! Heeey!” She tried to stop him, but too late. The raven had discovered what she wanted to keep secret: the dark mark on her right forearm, which glowed eerily and grew steadily. 

Ra-Ra recoiled. “Master! You are cursed!”

Damn. “Nah, it’s just a birthmark I need to che—Ow!” 

Ra-Ra had angrily pecked at her forehead. “Don’t you joke about that. Since when have you been cursed?” 

Martha pulled her sleeve over the mark, avoiding the raven’s gaze. 

“Was it the Alp? It was the Alp that we chased the day before yesterday and that almost ate us. It must have been,” lamented Ra-Ra, while she would have loved to point out that the Alp had chased HER while Ra-Ra had only fluttered away in panic. The ringing of the church bells interrupted her sullen thoughts. 

“Damn it” cursed Martha, picking up the water pistol and throwing it at Ra-Ra as he went into a whining tirade. 

“I knew it! I knew it! You behaved so strangely yesterday. And I had this lump in my stomach. By all the spirits, we’re going to die! DIE!”

“Ra-Ra, focus! We just need a blue poppy and–” Crack! “Oh no.” Horrified, she saw that the three dog statues were beginning to crumble. Crack! Crack! 

It was midnight, and the full moon was right above the mausoleum, shining its light directly onto the entrance. There, in the shadows, Martha recognised the blue glow of the poppies. But then, she was startled by a growl. The three dog statues had come to life and were baring their teeth. 

“We should have brought some treats,” Martha muttered, reaching for her umbrella again. “Okay, Ra-Ra, it’s now or never. Let the tears roll.” 

“I can’t cry on command!” Ra-Ra shrieked in panic and fluttered out of the way as the first stone dog attacked. Martha opened her umbrella and ducked behind it. The dog bumped into it and was immediately catapulted away with a magical push. It landed with a crash against the wall of the mausoleum. 

Martha grimaced. She should be careful not to break too much. But she couldn’t think about it any longer as the two other stone dogs jumped at her. She managed to catapult one of them away with her umbrella. But she only barely avoided the other and its sharp teeth by launching herself into the air again like Mary Poppins. She flew for a few moments over the cemetery, but quickly lost altitude. Panting, she landed on her feet,ignoring the now throbbing pain in her forearm. Damn, that wasn’t good. 

“You shouldn’t use so much magic, Master Oak! The quicker the curse eats you up and kills us!” Ra-Ra warned her as he sat down on top of Hecate’s statue. 

“Oh, really now?” She couldn’t help herself as she fended off another attack with her umbrella. “It would be easier if you finally cried!” 

“I’m trying!” Ra-Ra grumbled back from a safe distance, while she ducked under a bite. One of the stone dogs snatched the umbrella from her, and she cursed as she rolled across the ground. As soon as she was back on her feet, she ran on, skipping over the graves. The stone dogs chased after her and cleared everything out of the way like unstoppable steamrollers. 

“Not good. Not good at all.” Martha panted and reached into her inside pocket to pull out four small capsules. She threw them on the floor behind her. Colourful smoke exploded. Martha hastily dashed and stormed back to Ra-Ra, while the stone dogs wandered around in the colourful smoke. For now. 

“Ra-Ra! NOW!” Martha screamed, her heart racing. Black spots appeared in front of her eyes, and she stumbled as all the strength suddenly drained from her legs. She hit the ground hard and held her right arm, which was burning with pain. But the barking of the dogs startled her. She scraped all her energy back together. The adrenaline mixed with mortal fear also helped her to get back up. 

The three dogs chased after her, barking. Martha drew a symbol in the air with her hands. Then she snapped and crossed her arms across her chest. The next moment, the three dogs thundered against her magic shield. Furious, they jumped against it again and again, snarling at her. 

Martha was sweating. Her arms began to tremble with exertion. She puffed like an old steam engine and watched in horror as her magical shield began to flicker. It wouldn’t last much longer, and she wouldn’t have long before the curse killed her. 

“Ra-Ra…” Martha croaked out, dropping to her knees. Her vision blurred. The pain that slowly crept up her arm was almost unbearable. She was about to be savaged by three stone dogs. Great. 

“Master! Open your mouth!” Ra-Ra appeared next to her with a blue poppy flower in his beak. It glowed in the moonlight and was the most beautiful thing Martha had seen in a long time. But she couldn’t admire the flower for long, because Ra-Ra pushed it in her mouth. She coughed and lost control of her magical shield. She felt Ra-Ra’s claws dig into her shoulders. Shortly afterwards he took off into the air with her. She could hear him panting hard as he tried to keep her in the air. The stone dogs were right below them, snapping at Martha’s dangling legs. 

She forced herself not to spit the flower out again because it tasted so disgusting. Instead, she chewed the bitter petals. The pain subsided immediately. Relieved, she breathed in and swallowed the flower sludge while Ra-Ra dragged her to the roof of the mausoleum. 

“You… are … really… heav-y,” Ra-Ra pressed out of his beak as he tried not to lose the water spray gun. 

“Because of all the expectations you keep burdening me with,” Martha shot back. “And don’t drop the guuuu–AAh!” 

Ra-Ra let go of her over the roof. She hadn’t expected this and therefore crashed hard onto the stone slabs, slipped and almost slid off the roof. 

“Damn … That hurt…” Martha moaned, while Ra-Ra landed next to he. He took the pistol back into one of his claws before commenting dryly, “I see that your charming self is restored.” 

Ra-Ra howled in pain as Martha tore a large feather from his chest. Tears welled up in his eyes, which she caught with the water spray gun that the raven had dropped. 

“As always, you’re a marvellous help to me, Ra-Ra,” Martha purred sarcastically. Then, she took aim at the first stone dog, which was about to climb onto the roof. She shot at its face, and it instantly petrified. 

“Isn’t it great how easy it is?” Martha turned to Ra-Ra as she stood up. But she was still wobbly on her feet. Ra-Ra therefore held her by the shoulder as he flew alongside her. She shot at the other two dogs, petryfing them. After that, she carefully climbed down from the mausoleum, collected her umbrella and limped back to the cemetery gate. Ra-Ra flew silently behind her. Martha was a little worried that she had upset her familiar too much. 

When they arrived at the gate, she squeezed through and realised that the guard was still asleep. 

“Would you be so kind as to wake the newcomer up again, Martha?” a gruff voice rang out. Martha turned to Henrietta. The troll was in her human form: a muscular, older woman in dungarees. She had long braided pigtails hanging down to the left and right of her angular face. However, despite her human appearance, her voice still sounded like the scree of stones. 

“Hey, Etta!” Martha greeted her cheerfully. “Sure thing! Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare the newbie, but he got in my way.” 

Henrietta grinned. “That certainly won’t happen to him again with the infamous Martha Oak.” 

“Now you’re flattering me.” Martha winked at the troll, before she snapped her fingers at the guard’s face. He woke up yawning, while Henrietta pulled him to his feet. 

“Wake up, newbie. You fucked up on your first shift. Not a great first impression, man,” Henrietta’s voice thundered across the square. She waved to Martha once more before dragging her confused colleague with her. 

“I almost feel sorry for the guy,“ the witch said to Ra-Ra, who gave her a pointed look. She sighed and asked: “Okay, what’s up?” 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were cursed?” 

She put her hands in her coat pockets, shrugging her shoulders. “Because I didn’t want you to worry,” she admitted quietly. 

Ra-Ra glanced at her for a long moment without her knowing what was going on in his raven brain. Just when Martha thought he wasn’t going to say anything more, he raised his voice. 

“I understand, Master Oak. But I still wish you would stop lying to me.” 

Martha nodded with a gentle smile. “Okay. I swear.”

 “Swear by Hecate and her hellhounds.”

Martha grimaced, walking away from the cemetery. “Don’t get carried away now, Ra-Ra.” 

“Master Oak, I want you to swear on Hecate!”

She took a deep breath and tried to ignore Ra-Ra, who flew next to hee, pestering her with the damned oath. It was going to be a long night. 

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Thank you for reading this little adventure of Martha Oak. 🙂

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Until then, stay wicked!

Jule