They taught him the magical arts, but only how to use them to kill. He can call down lightning from the sky, freeze his enemies in place with ice, and summon fire from nowhere. He spreads pain and death for the glory of the Empire and the terror of its many enemies. He looks out across the battlefield and sees other wizards healing the wounded and summoning wondrous creatures. He envies them. He wonders what it’s like to use magic to help people. All he knows is how to destroy. He vows that someday his masters will regret teaching him.
They come and sat on the beach, and the air is so thick with smoke you cannot see the opposite shore, ten miles away. It is the pall of faraway wildfires making the sailboats hazy shadows in the distance. They walk out into the water, so much more shallow and rocky than in years past. They reminisce about years when it rained all summer, or when they still dumped chemicals into the lake and the fish lay dead and eyeless up and down the shore. They say to themselves, “This is fine,” as they gaze out at the smoky horizon.
The kelpie stood faithfully on the shore, waiting for its rider. It was a majestic creature, with flanks the rich brown of lake stone and a flowing mane of seaweed green. All day it would wait, standing atop the gently rolling waves.. Occasionally it would trot out to crop at the seaweed just below the surface. It was a docile, well-trained mount. If anyone should happen to climb upon its back, it would carry them home. It never occurred to the kelpie that unlike her master, the prince of an undersea kingdom, the people of the surface couldn’t breathe underwater.
As the countdown began, the launch control room held its collective breath. This uncrewed rocket would be Humanity’s next step into space. The rocket ignited, and there was a cheer as it lifted off from the platform. But as it reached the upper atmosphere, the cheers turned to groans as the vehicle wobbled and exploded. At his desk, Roger hid a smile. This failure would set the humans back years, meaning his mission was a complete success. His team called themselves ‘Firefighters.’ They went to undeveloped planets and put out fires that if left unchecked, could destroy the entire galaxy.
They brought the craft in low over the gas giant’s roiling atmosphere. The trick was to just skip across the surface, like a stone on a pond. They fought against the pull of gravity, maintaining an altitude just low enough to avoid the mining station’s sensors, and just high enough not to risk a fiery entry before being crushed by the heavy gasses and liquid metals of the planet’s core. The station sparkled in the distance. They kept their hand steady on the controls. The Imperials a massive defensive grid, but never expected anyone to attack the station from below.
“Hey! Have you ever heard about the breakaway effect?” “What? No!” “Astronauts have reported that after viewing the Earth from orbit, their perspective changed. They were able to appreciate the beauty and the fragility of the world in a way they hadn’t before.” “Oh! That’s That’s really interesting!” “Makes you think, doesn’t it?” “What? Oh, it certainly does. Can you put me down now?” The superhero returned the Prime Minister back to his office. As he flew off, bullets bouncing off his boots, he suspected he hadn’t gotten through to him after all. There was always the next world leader.
The princess arrived at the ruins guided by providence. Here, in the bottommost reliquary, lay her Ancestral Sword. The magic in her bloodline would lead her to it, and then, after years in exile, she would use it to regain the throne. She had trained all her life for this duty, in order to restore her dynasty to glory. She avoided the traps and hidden dangers and fended off the beasts that nested in the tunnels. Finally, she came to the dais where the sword lay waiting. When she picked up the ancient weapon, it fell apart in her hands.
The healer gripped her staff, feeling the familiar callouses on her fingers and palms. It was a simple wooden staff, not unlike a shepherd’s. But through it she had worked miracles for decades. Now the years fell heavily upon her. Joints ached and her callused hands hurt. The staff had gone from a tool to her support. In her travels, she’d cured the sick, and made the injured whole again. But she’d never been able to heal herself. But she was not alone. Her companions and grateful friends returned to care for her as she had once cared for them.
Once he figured out how to power on the spaceship that brought him to Earth as a baby, it taught him where he came from. He learned galactic history and it was an unbroken record of interplanetary empires: Despots who enslaved entire star systems and mad beings who destroyed planets just because they could. He understood why he’d been sent to this planet. His birth parents had sacrificed everything to give him a chance. His adopted parents raised him to believe in the power of doing good. He watched the skies and the world around him. It wouldn’t happen here.
Through an improbable accident, she gained the power to communicate with and command cats. While she didn’t have ambitions towards super-heroics, she used her new powers judiciously. She became used to finding dead mice and birds on her doorstep, and left out kibble for the strays compelled to seek her out. She made sure every stray in her town was spayed or neutered, found loving homes for the ones that could be adopted. When disaster struck, she used her powers to locate trapped survivors, but that was all she could do. A cat is still a cat in the end.
Hugh J. O'Donnell 