Hugh J. O'Donnell

I watched the other occupant of the catacombs beneath the opera house with benevolence.
Deformed from birth, he’d lived a hard life. But he had an unparalleled ear and a love of music. He could’ve changed the medium forever if humanity’s cruelty hadn’t forced him into hiding.
I did nothing as he played little tricks on the crew and pranked a succession of nouveau riche owners more interested in their investment than art.
But when he began stalking a chorus girl, I knew I’d let things go too far. It was time he saw what a real phantom could do.

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The barge made its way through the city. Its doors were locked, and the windows were covered. But the passengers could still look out through gaps in the boards.
They were undead, cursed by foul magic, and exiled to the slums of Spook Town. They were being punished not for their crimes but for the crime that was done to them.
But as the boat neared the dock, the prisoners saw that every window was lit by colorful lanterns. A brass quartet played a jazz riff as a crowd of gaudily dressed skeletons gathered to welcome them.
They were home.

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The children dragged the net onto the shore, struggling against the cumbersome weight of the dead creature within.
The divers didn’t bother to remove their scavenged helmets as they examined the catch. There were a few fish, but the majority of the haul was made up of the leviathan.
Its long, serpentine body was clad in iridescent scales, and its thin limbs ended in broad, wing-like membranes that sparkled in the morning sunlight.
The children knew that they had destroyed something beautiful and rare. But they also knew that they wouldn’t have to worry about food for a long time.

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They sent their signals out into the stars as soon as they were sure that the little blue planet could receive them. Following a message of greeting and galactic peace, they sent instructions for a curious machine. Ardent debate ensued on Earth over what it did.
The interstellar gulf was too large to cross in a ship. Too many things could go wrong. A signal could get through, as long as there was a receiver on the other side.
The aliens had the ability to convert themselves into energy and rebuild their bodies from local materials.
The invasion had begun.

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On the first of the month, she reports for jury duty. Most people try to avoid the service, but she is looking forward to it. It is a cornerstone of her nation’s justice system, and she’s been training.
She often passes the Hall of Justice and marvels at the ornate statues dedicated to their greatest heroes and judges.
As she climbs the steps in her best armor, with her favorite sword belted at her waist, she hopes she will do them honor.
Outsiders claim the tradition of trial by combat is barbaric, but she will defend it to the last.

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It was a perfect autumn evening. Summer’s humidity had broken, and only a hint of crispness on the wind hinted at the snow to come.
She sat on her porch, nursing a drink and watching the full moon rise over the valley, savoring the sense of tranquility.
It was broken by a distant scream, followed by another. Soon, the air was full of noise. It wasn’t a human sound, but not quite animalistic either. She’d never heard it before but recognized it from her almanac. She went inside to prepare.
After a thousand years, vampires were emerging from the earth.

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They finally caught up with him in the park. He thought he’d escaped a few days ago, but time had blurred into a gray haze.
He sat in the falling rain, resting on an abandoned swing when the agents began closing their circle. They ringed the park with unmarked vans and stepped out in white hazmat suits, their strange guns ready.
It always rained on him. It was one of his powers, one he couldn’t actively control. They jokingly called him the rain god when they were doing their experiments. But that wasn’t his only power. Above him, lightning crackled.

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They found the same life-form on a dozen worlds, parsecs apart. It was a tall, woody plant that was virtually identical to an oak tree. Even more strange, the samples weren’t merely the same species but were cuttings of the same plant.
Anthropologists, astronomers, and botanists debated for decades about how they could’ve traveled so far with no other signs of alien settlement.
Finally, they found a distant planet dominated by a single massive tree. Its branches reached up into the sky and disappeared like magic.
One of the landing party climbed one and found himself standing on another world.

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The prince took to wearing a mask forged of steel when making his public appearances. He wore it to cultivate an air of mystery but also to prevent attempts on his life.
He selected a team of bodyguards with his build and gave them masks as well. By blending into a crowd, assassins couldn’t be sure which one was the target. The unorthodox tactic was considered a success.
But the prince became lazy. Over time, he gave more and more duties to his shadows and left his palace less and less.
Nobody even noticed when they replaced him for good.

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The carriage reined to a stop next to another track in the snow. The hunter got out and examined it in the early morning light
“She’s been this way,” he said to his companion. “Recently.”
The track wasn’t so different from any other bird. You could mistake it for a chicken or a turkey if you discounted the fact that it was large enough for a man to lay down comfortably inside.
“Come, Lawrence.” They had to hurry. The cyptozoological gardens opened in an hour, and if the terror bird wasn’t back in her enclosure, it would be their heads.

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