Hugh J. O'Donnell

Every year the town burned a scarecrow, and she hated the tradition. A local artist constructed one each spring, and it stood for months near the town’s welcome sign, only to be cruelly burned at the end of the year.
But when she was selected to build that year’s scarecrow, she couldn’t say ‘no.’ She tried to explain why the tradition horrified her but couldn’t find the words.
Instead, she filled her scarecrow with cunningly hidden wildflower seeds. Her creation burst with life all through the spring and summer. When autumn came, they didn’t have the heart to burn her.

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From a young age, he knew there was another hidden world. He could see it reflected in puddles and from behind mirrors.
Adults told him to stop being silly and explained that he only saw his reflection.
But he knew that they were wrong. What he saw didn’t quite match up to what they did. He stopped telling people and practiced keeping perfectly still so that his reflection stayed synced. Eventually, he grew up and forgot about the other world he had seen.
It slipped away from him. Until one day, he reached out, and his reflection pulled him across.

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The mad scientist installed his latest device atop the pyramid, as it was the highest point in the desert. Despite some local resistance, everything was going according to plan.
There had been the usual luddites afraid of progress. Others hounded him about such trivialities as ‘desecrating a priceless historical site.’ Then some superstitious fools begged him ‘not to unleash a curse upon the city.’ He cared little. Didn’t they know he was a Man of Science?
As he connected the final wires, he suddenly smelled a fetid, dusty odor and felt a tap on his shoulder.
He hadn’t expected mummies.

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It was a monument to the Human Spirit, and the tip of its tower was the highest point in the city. Tourists visited from around the world to stand on its platform and take in the impressive view.
But the years passed, and before long, the monument rested in the shadows of buildings its builders could scarcely have dreamed of. The visitors abandoned it.
But the city still remembered and maintained the site and the grounds around it as a park. It had ceased to be a vision of the future and became a treasured memory of a glorious past.

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I turned on the TV to see the aftermath of another battle. It was out in Yokohama, far from here, and the damage didn’t look too bad, although the JSDF lost another suit.
They were burning through their budget this season, I thought, as I chopped vegetables and added them to the simmering hotpot.a
Life had finally returned to normal since the original Kaiju Disaster over a decade ago. And things were much better than they had been in those first lean years.
Prosperity helps, I thought as I added a writhing batch of fresh tentacles to the bubbling stock.

The Mountain’s Shadow, the first Everyday Drabbles collection, is now available for preorder from Amazon!

Once shipbuilding moved off-world, designers suddenly had an unprecedented amount of freedom. A spaceship propelled from a planet’s surface must contend with gravity, friction, and the dangers of launch and re-entry. If a ship only needed to travel in the void, such concerns were trifles safely ignored.
A new age of whimsical starship design bloomed, and shipbuilders were free to make beautiful creations. When the war came, both sides used this fact to their advantage.
Nobody expected the laser strikes to come from the Fluffy Bunny Fleet, but their visages brought fear throughout the galaxy in the age that followed.

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Everyone in the city saw the red flash of light streak across the sky. It happened during rush hour, and half a million people saw it through their windshields and office windows, moving so fast they had to check with each other that they’d seen it, too.
A few lucky people caught it on their phones, and the brief, grainy videos were downloaded and dissected by a billion more. The magnified images provided much discussion but were inconclusive.
But she was the only one who spotted the hand, poking out of the red streak and flailing as it flew overhead.

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The path wound out from his door, through the wooded hills, and towards the distant mountains. It led away from the safe, secluded life he’d always known and into the unknown.
Or so he imagined as he trudged the path from the cabin into the woods. Every day was the same: Food had to be grown or hunted, firewood needed splitting, and there were always chores to do around the cabin.. He daydreamed of adventure and excitement outside his little patch of forest.
Until one day, a group of tourists arrived, seeking solace from their stressful lives in the city.

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The General threw a cloak over his shoulders and left his tent to inspect his troops. Each carried a lantern atop his spear. They would light their way to the castle of his hated enemy, the Duke.
Their clans had been warring for centuries. While there was little contact between them, the General knew that the Duke feared an ancient prophecy: His castle would fall on a snowy night, surrounded by starlight.
The General gave the order to move out. He would leave an offering on his great-grandfather’s grave when he returned in thanks for planting the prophecy long ago.

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