Hugh J. O'Donnell

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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The massive being, almost as old as time itself, looked down at the three challengers and considered them through a god’s eyes.
They were young. Their cultures would consider them barely out of adolescence. But they had fought a hard road to get to this place, and that journey had left scars upon them, at the end.
The fact that they were hopelessly outmatched didn’t matter to them. They still raised their swords to the End Of All Things and shouted ‘no.’
For the first time in so long, it could not remember the sensation, the ancient darkness felt afraid.

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She carried two blades, each about a foot long, made of pure light. There wasn’t anything she couldn’t cut through, and there was no hiding what she was: The greatest assassin who ever lived.
Most assassins chose stealth as their medium. They swathed themselves in black and gray and lurked in the shadows. She fought her opponents openly.
It wasn’t as though she had a code of honor. All the watching and waiting felt too much like work to her. She preferred five minutes of excitement to an hour of boredom.
And it wasn’t as though anyone could stop her.

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The squadron climbed to the mountain’s peak. Some were in human guise, and others preferred their tiger shapes.
They watched their enemies, who soared through the high passes on white wings. Neither side knew how the war between the were-tigers and the giant eagles began anymore. Most of them assumed it had something to do with territory. As humanity expanded, they were both pressed to the high, inhospitable places. They all knew that continuing to fight would only lead to their mutual destruction.
But cats and birds can hardly deny their nature. The leader signaled for the attack to begin.

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The goat climbed the little hill every day. It had a good view of the surrounding fields and the huge boulders that stood to the north.
For his part, the goat ignored the boulders. They were too smooth for even him to climb, and nothing grew on them for him to eat.
But today he heard a thundering crack and the sky went dark. One after another, the stones split open and great black and red dragons flew out into the sky, freed from their eggs at last.
‘Somehow, I bet I’ll be blamed for this,’ the goat thought glumly.

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She is, quite literally, an angel of music. Her duty among the celestial people is to play for the gods, a servant and an artist in one. She takes this duty very seriously and has mastered a variety of instruments to serve her masters in any way.
She is always surprised when she meets outsiders, who always assume that her talents are ingrained. They treat her as though she were a vessel filled at the moment of its creation. The truth is always more complicated and less satisfying.
How do you get to the Divine Hall of Spiritual Harmony?
Practice.

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