Hugh J. O'Donnell

“Please,” the mermaid asked the Sea Witch. “Change my tail into legs like a human’s so I may walk on land.”
“Tell me, child. How many legs has a human?”
The girl concentrated. “Oh, I should know this. I think three?”
The witch smiled and presented her with a potion, along with warnings and instructions she was satisfied the girl would ignore in her haste.
When she was gone, the witch’s minion slithered out of hiding. “I thought you were going to steal her voice.”
“I was,” the witch said. “But this is going to be so much more amusing.”

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Tiger prowls through the jungle, searching for her next meal. She stalks from tree to tree, padding on silent feet. Her striped fur blends into the shadows falling from the canopy.
The rest of the forest cowers from her. From the smallest rat to the mightiest boar, they all know better than to risk Tiger’s swift claws. She hunts by stealth because no one else is a match for her.
She does not believe in astrology or even keep time in a way that is compatible with such thinking. But never the less, it is going to be her year.

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As humanity advanced, the will-o-wisps were forced to learn to adapt. Automobiles made their favorite prey suddenly much more difficult to catch. Highways and GPS devices reduced flickering torches from guiding lights to mere curiosities that were quickly passed.
A few will-o-wisps still maintained traditional hunting methods, keeping solitary lairs in dangerous swamps and lonely mountain passes. But most banded together for survival.
It took effort and coordination to mimic the solid glow of a streetlight or to become a pair of distant taillights. But if they worked together, they could do it.
Humanity advanced, but their monsters kept up.

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The boy found the dragon resting on the hillside. It was finally time to put his training to use.
“Even the smallest wind can move a boulder,” He reminded himself. He dropped into a fighting stance and let out his war cry. He leaped at the mighty dragon, leading with his feet. He struck a series of blows along the creature’s back and tail, striking the pressure points between the scales.
Slowly, the beast turned and glared down at his assailant, then bowed.
“Well done, my student. Now go and defend your village.”
He returned the gesture. “Thank you, Master.”

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The House of Bones was the last stop before making the grueling crossing through the wasteland. It was built from the piled skulls and vertebrae of some giant creature whose features seemed all too human.
First-time guests would marvel and shudder, thinking of what roamed the waste and might still be out there. Will, the current innkeeper, would chuckle and explain how nothing may be wasted in the wasteland, even bones.
Then he would make tea and tell the story of how his great-grandfather found a gold ring as big as a belt, still worn on a giant’s finger bone.

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It is widely known that the world is carried on the backs of elephants, and she dreamed of joining their esteemed company. But the idea of bearing so much weight terrified her. She went to the matriarch of her herd and asked her advice.
“What can you carry,” her grandmother asked.
She looked around the clearing. “A rock?”
The old pachyderm curled her trunk in bemusement. “Then start by lifting what you can, and build up to it.”
She still isn’t strong enough to lift the Earth. But she can carry the Moon, and she considers it a good start.

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