Hugh J. O'Donnell

The knight rode through an unfamiliar forest and stopped for the night in the ruins of a grand palace.
That night, he dreamed of ghosts holding revels among the crumbling stone, their elegant dances heedless of the trees that grew between the stones of the courtyard. He let the apparition of a courtly lady lead him away from the festivities, and she moved a flagstone to reveal a cache of hidden treasure.
“So that the world does not forget us,” she said, pressing an ancient gold coin into his gauntleted hand.
He was still holding it when he woke up.

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When the surface became uninhabitable, a group of enterprising survivors built a city underground. They used great pumps and filters to find air and water, and dug deep into the earth.
Over time, they prospered, building even wider and deeper tunnels. Their leaders boasted that they carried the torch of civilization.
Centuries later, the day finally came when they could safely return to the surface. The city held a grand celebration as they broke the seal, and the great dome that covered the city was opened.
But only a few brave souls were willing to venture up into the unknown.

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We found him in a bare little room hidden in the back of the old manor. He sat on the dusty wooden floor, bound by ropes that glowed with sinister magic.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said as he took in our motley crew of heroes.
“Don’t be afraid, I replied. “We’ll get you out of here.”
“No, you don’t understand,” he began, and then the world tilted suddenly as a doorway to somewhere else opened up beneath us and pulled us through.
As we fell, I realized the magic ropes were not a prisoner’s restraints but a safety harness.

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The Emperor kept a dancing automaton in his court for the pleasure and wonder of his guests. On command, it would come to life and perform its intricate movements.
The machine had the shape of a human woman, crowned with coiled metal hair that glowed with heat as it performed. At the end of its dance, the automaton would shake its head and toss back the hair. The guests would applaud the movement and praise the designer, saying they almost believed the machine was alive.
The automaton said nothing. As a professional, it didn’t want to be distracted by philosophy.

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She stood in the center of the circle, and they placed the black iron crown upon her head. The shadows at the circumference cheered and called. Some whispered prayers to mad gods and other sinister forces. Just for tonight, the witches had a queen.
They awaited her command as she contemplated the wickedness she could accomplish with her coven. There was so much dark magic she could weave, so much chaos to unleash. It would be a night to remember.
But first, they would have cake and ice cream. The witches loved a birthday party and always celebrated one properly.

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The boy climbed to the rooftops while the rest of the village was still asleep. The watery light of dawn was just beginning to gather at the eastern horizon. It was time.
He pulled the flute out of its case and began to play. First softly, then louder and more joyously. The instrument didn’t look like much, but its tones were sweet and clear.
He played until he felt the sun warm his face, then climbed down and joined the morning crowd.
He never told anyone he played the sun awake for fear they would delay him in his duty.

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Her sisters all said she was crazy when she took a job on a ship. But she gets to travel the world instead of lurking in their crumbling domain.
She loves the fresh sea air and the horizon surrounding her.
The sailors were rough at first, but she only had to toss one of them overboard before they learned her boundaries. And when pirates attack, their shock when she climbs down from the prow and defends the ship is always delightful.
Her sisters say she’s just a figurehead, but she wouldn’t trade her life for all their undersea kingdom’s treasure.

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“Are we doing a nude?” He asked, taking in my little portrait studio.
“Not today,” I blushed. “Have a seat while I get set up. This should only take about an hour.”
He rolled his piercing blue eyes and pursed his sensual lips. “You could just take a photograph.”
“I could, but where’s the fun in that?” I looked over my pigments while he made himself comfortable, lounging int he sunlight.
He was right. I could’ve used a photograph, but that would only capture his image. I wanted all of him.
“Hold that pose,” I said, and began to sketch.

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