Hugh J. O'Donnell

The twins were digging in the yard again.
From her spot on the back deck, the babysitter listened to the sounds of plastic shovels hitting the dirt and giggling. They had found a distant, sandy corner of the garden and had made the hole their summer project.
She had been concerned, but their parents said it was fine so long as they stayed in the yard and out of their flower bed.
But after a while, she realized she could not see them. Instead of giggling, she heard the sound of the ocean. The twins had made an escape tunnel.

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When the Yokai returned, there were questions as to whether they would be able to integrate into modern society.
The spirits had always claimed the remote corners of the world: The tops of mountains and the hearts of forests. But as Humanity spread and such places became harder to find, coexistance became the only option.
It was the yokai’s first day on the fire brigade, and he could tell that the humans resented and feared him. He rose on his four spider-like legs, sensing the fire a moment before the call came in.
He was determined to prove his worth.

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They say they can get you to Earth. They don’t mention what it will cost.
Angels know about suffering and cruelty, but it is difficult to understand the darkness when you live wholly in the light.
It isn’t until the angels touch the ground and men come to bind their wings with silver chains that they learn what they are in for.
But Michael has been to Earth many times before. And he’s hidden his flaming sword where these traffickers will never find it. All he has to do is endure until he can find the others and free them.

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We watched and braced ourselves as the golem continued to struggle toward us.
Its magic was fading. Without the hat, it was already reverting to its original form. The facial features had already melted away, and its muscles were turning back into slushy snow. The creature collapsed, and the sun quickly melted the snowman into a puddle.
I picked up the battered old top hat. It didn’t look extraordinary, but I could feel the malevolent otherworldly forces trapped within.
“An artifact this powerful cannot be destroyed,” I said. “We need to put this someplace where nobody will ever find it.”

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The inventor placed his right arm into the machine. He smelled the faint tang of lubricant as the motors rumbled to life. He felt pressure, then a pinch as the pins locked in place.
He attempted to lift his hand, and the robot arm rose from the platform. The robot mimicked his movements perfectly. He had the robot reach out and grab a glass of water. The inventor felt the smooth surface of the glass on his own palm.
The inventor’s phone buzzed.
He absently moved to pick it up and the robot arm swung around and knocked him unconscious.

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“I’d like you to deliver these balloons,” she said, handing the bike messenger the strings to a multicolored cluster of helium balloons. They spread out behind her like a peacock’s tail, completely blocking the door to his office.
“What’s the delivery address?”
“There’s no address. These balloons aren’t for anyone in particular. They’re for the city,” she replied.
This wasn’t his strangest request, and she tipped generously. It was embarrassing at first, but as he handed out the bright balloons, he could feel the gray mood of the city lighten.
He supposed everyone needed a balloon from time to time.

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When the lab accident turned them both invisible, she took it better than he did. She was already used to being overlooked and ignored.But the thought of being forgotten terrified him. He dressed in bandages and loud clothing and stomped through the halls, talking too loudly about how close he was to a cure.When a cure didn’t materialize, he flooded the rooms with theatrical smoke and covered himself in paint. She knew how to deal with obscurity but drew a line at footprints on the carpet.When she’d had enough, she disappeared, taking all her work with her.

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The tornado hovered hesitantly over the farmhouse. Once it touched the ground, everything would begin. Its high winds would destroy everything. It seemed like a big responsibility.
But the energy had to go somewhere, and it couldn’t hold itself together for much longer. In that destruction, there was the possibility for renewal and growth.
The weather system saw the tiny figures below scattering. Humans ran for shelters and locked their livestock animals in barns. Only a single girl and her dog were left outside.
The tornado reached out for the Kansas earth.
What’s the worst that could happen, it thought.

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The sculptor brushed a cloth over the statue’s face. It was another perfect masterpiece. All that was left was for it to awaken.
He washed the marble dust from his hands and thanked the gods for his mysterious gift.
He nodded to the painter as he left. He would have preferred to have his work untouched, but such were the whims of culture.
She set to work, gripping her brush lightly in gnarled old hands. She painted the eyes first and then the mouth. The statue yawned and blinked as her paints brought color and life to the dead stone.

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The sign at the gate said, “Beware of Dog.” The technician stood in front of the fence, toolkit under one arm. He rang the bell again.
There was no answer, so he let himself into the yard. He rounded a corner and stopped short.
A dozen damaged robots, each still tethered to their dock, lurched toward him. They reached the end of their cords’ slack and reared up, growling and barking.
Each of their screens showed a snarling canine mouth. They definitely had the virus.
He’d have to work fast before any of them figured out how to get loose

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