Hugh J. O'Donnell

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.

“Clue” by treehouse1977 is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0.

Everyday Drabbles © 2025 by Hugh J. O’Donnell is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.

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.

“Antares Rocket Preparation” by NASA Goddard Photo and Video is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

Everyday Drabbles © 2025 by Hugh J. O’Donnell is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.

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.

“Cassini’s Final Full Image of Saturn–Large Version” by Lights In The Dark is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0.

Everyday Drabbles © 2025 by Hugh J. O’Donnell is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.

“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.

“Earth” by Kevin M. Gill is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

Everyday Drabbles © 2025 by Hugh J. O’Donnell is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.

Everyday Drabbles © 2025 by Hugh J. O’Donnell is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.

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.

Rapier of Prince-Elector Christian II of Saxony (1583–1611)

Everyday Drabbles © 2025 by Hugh J. O’Donnell is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.

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.

“Walking stick” by Andrei! is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0.

Everyday Drabbles © 2025 by Hugh J. O’Donnell is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.

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.

“Galaxy NGC 60” by Raven Vasquez is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

Everyday Drabbles © 2025 by Hugh J. O’Donnell is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.

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.

“Spider Cat” by rabbot is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

Everyday Drabbles © 2025 by Hugh J. O’Donnell is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.

He examined the sword in the light. Its edge was still as sharp as when his mentor had first shown it to him, although it had been used in many noble quests. He could feel their weight in the steel.
He sheathed his blade and walked towards the town gates. His friends were waiting for him.
He didn’t feel worthy of the sword. He didn’t feel worthy of his companions. He couldn’t summon fire or heal wounds or disarm ancient traps. But if he could protect them, with his blade or his life, he would. He hoped that was enough.

“The Arn Limited Edtion Offical Movie Sword” by Albion Europe ApS is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

Everyday Drabbles © 2025 by Hugh J. O’Donnell is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.

The Thief looked at the knife in the torchlight. He hated the thing, and his need to carry it.
His profession, performed with proper care and skill, shouldn’t require a brutal edge. Any fool could use force. He employed more subtle tools. Stealth, misdirection, silence and subterfuge were more his style. But sometimes a job went went wrong. Sometimes the mark was sharper than that looked. Sometimes it was smarter to walk away.
But he remembered who he was doing this for, and why. He gripped the knife and stepped back into the shadows, waiting for his chance to strike.

“Knife 8” by ~Brenda-Starr~ is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

Everyday Drabbles © 2025 by Hugh J. O’Donnell is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0