Hugh J. O'Donnell

He hovered over the bodies at the crash site. The sea had already taken what the force of the impact had left behind. He cradled one of the victims, still in their spacesuit, delicately in his arms.
He was no forensic analyst. He couldn’t tell anyone what had gone wrong. If it hit the water at a bad angle or there was a problem with the hull materials.
But the giant octopus wondered who these people were, who had entered his deep and lightless domain. He pulled himself out of the cramped reentry capsule and swam off, savoring the mystery.

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The spirit took the form of a giant minotaur, taking its body from the water in the town’s well.
The centurion donned his armor and picked up his sword. The priestess put a forestalling hand on his arm. Instead, she put on her headdress and swung her silver chain, taking on the beast alone. He couldn’t slay the formless beast, and she couldn’t risk him fouling the settlement’s water supply.
She worked with patience and persistence. Slowly, the raging spirit calmed and finally disappeared.
She watched the centurion watching her work. She knew he would not be so easily appeased.

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The container was clamped to a shelf near the starboard observation window and had a bright yellow biohazard sticker. A brown liquid floated inside.
So far, the label had kept the other astronauts out of her stash, and it wasn’t entirely inaccurate, she thought as she unclipped the container.
It was the end of the space station day, the only blessedly unscheduled moment up here that cap com gave them.
She contentedly sipped her contraband whiskey and watched the sunset over the Earth far below. She had worked hard to get here, but moments like this made everything worth it.

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The shop sold the future.
It lived in the back corner of a tiny, fading mall, the sort of shopping center that was slowly converting itself into office space and DMV branches.
Every day, the proprietor would put out his sign and wait.
He was too off the beaten path for the mall walkers. But a few office drones would stop while exploring the ruins of American Commerce on their lunch breaks.
Everyone always asked what he sold, and he told them. Most kept walking, but a few came in, ready to pay for the future fate had denied them.

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The necromancer made the key to unlock secrets. He used it to raise and control his undead armies. Even those beyond the flow of life and death were not above blackmail. Not to someone willing to tug on the chains of their attachments.
She stole the key in hopes of finding buried treasure. She dreamed of the riches the dead took with them to the grave.
But more often than not, the key unlocked regrets instead of secrets. That was when she found the key’s unintended but best use.
Sometimes a ghost didn’t need an exorcist, just a good therapist.

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They only return to the city when necessary. She hates it there. Even when she is dressed to blend in with the latest fashions, her wolf companion always draws attention.
She hates the echoing concrete and the buzzing neon. The stench of civilization. She only comes back when she needs to resupply, or some errand takes her back. She spends all her time wishing for the dark forest she calls home.
The wolf loves the city. He is fascinated by its novelty The human world is full of interesting smells and strange sounds. He loves the feeling of being seen.

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The judges looked up at the golem and scoffed. It was thirty feet tall and clearly didn’t meet the requirements of the competition. One of them his attention to the teenage artificer, who looked like she was about to cry.
“While the details on your golem are impressive, you were supposed to make your golem out of household items.”
He was interrupted by ground-shaking footsteps. A giant crested the hill and stood bellowing outside the city, demanding to know who had stolen his teapot and smashed his clock.
“I did,” she insisted. “I just used ones from a bigger house!”

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The pair of explorers wandered the city. They walked the wide streets, climbed broad staircases, and marveled at the vast squares decorated with dry fountains and exquisite marble statues. They met nobody in their travels, yet they had the eerie feeling that they were being watched.
The tall stone buildings had no means of entry. They couldn’t budge the heavy locked doors, and none of the windows were low enough to climb through.
Frustrated, they left the city to its ghosts.
Somewhere beyond their understanding, beings jotted down their observations and reset the maze for the next group of subjects.

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