Hugh J. O'Donnell

There was some debate over whether the human had entered the Spirits’ Forest on accident, but there was no doubt among them that they did not care for his attitude. The spirits had him held fast inside a fallen tree while they debated what was to be done with him.
“This is my forest! Don’t you know who I am?” The human shouted. Attempting to point to the little metal hat on his head. “I’m the king!”
The spirits spent a long time discussing what that meant.
The human was noisy, but after a few hundred years, he calmed down.

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The found the first statue at the edge of the Elves’ territory. It was a figure carved of living wood, ten meters high, extending a hand in friendship. The ranger spoke as they walked.
“Elvish artists spend their whole long lives making these. Being chosen as a Treeshaper is a high honor.” More statues lined the paths, from great beasts and noble heroes to geometric patterns that fooled and delighted the eye.
They stopped short when they came to the grove of giant toilets.
“The arts community went through a, um, protest movement five hundred years ago,” the ranger explained.

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When she entered the dusty old general store, the man behind the counter welcomed her and asked what she was seeking.
“I want to buy a mirror,” she said. He placed three hand mirrors on the counter.
“These mirrors each show something different: Lost loves, your hearts desire, or the future. But each has a terrible cost.”
“Bob, I just need a regular, non-enchanted mirror. Do you have one?”
He looked embarrassed. “Ah, not really, no.”
She sighed. Now she’d have to drive the hundred miles to the big-box store. Someday she’d get out of this dying New England town.

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The old tunnel yawned wide and dark before us. From somewhere in its depths a sulfurous odor wafted up. This could certainly be the place, but I still had my doubts.
“Are you sure about this?” I asked.
“For the last time, yes!” My companion turned and seized me by the shoulders. “Consider it. One coin per person for hundreds of years? Thousands? And what does He have to spend them on?”
“But how are we going to actually do it?”
“Mate, I have a plan. You just have to find the river. Then, we’re going to rob Charon blind.”

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In a world of superheroes, she discovered she had the power to know the future. But despite her efforts, she couldn’t change it, or even tell another soul. Every time she tried, Fate would intervene.
She tried to write down what would happen, but the predictions all came out as nonsense. She couldn’t even keep a calendar.
Unable to become a prophet, she had to come up with a new plan. She studied crisis management, got her EMT certification, and memorized the fastest routes through the city.
If she couldn’t prevent the future, she decided to rise to meet it.

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When everyone went into quarantine, he started building little robots. He would spend his weekends clipping out the parts and fitting them together while listening to his favorite records and sipping tea. He found it a very relaxing way to spend his time when he couldn’t leave the house.
The finished products were only about six inches tall, but exquisitely detailed. He posted pictures of his results online to great acclaim.
“Where do you get your model kits,” one friend asked him in a private message.
“What’s a model kit?” He asked, puzzled, as he charged up another laser cannon.

From an early age, he trained to serve The Chosen One. The prophecy was quite specific. The prince would do great things, and he would need a valet that would support him no matter what the task.
Every village in the kingdom sent their sons to academy to compete for the honor. And somehow he was selected.
Since then, he spent every waking moment with the prince, in lessons and training. The prince wasn’t what he expected, though. He was burnish, lazy, and honestly a bit dim.
But he would be with him to the end. Because he’d been chosen.

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“I hear you’re working on a self-portrait.”
The sculpture looked momentarily embarrassed, then composed himself. “Yes, would you like to see it?”
We walked to the studio and he uncovered the piece. It was carved from a single piece of stone, and was a body with two torsos, like a figure on a playing card. The top bust was posing with hands joined above its head, while the bottom figure held a chisel to its chest. Both faces were a strikingly accurate likeness.
“I call it ‘Vision and Vanity.”
“I see you’ve given yourself rock-hard abs there.”
He shrugged. “Naturally.”

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She climbed the steps in the dark. Once, it had been a grand temple. All that remained were a few crumbling steps and a platform open to the stars.
As the sky lightened, she set down a golden bowl, filled it with water, and chanted. She felt exposed and afraid.
The first rays of sunlight hit the bowl, filling it with an unearthly glow. The reflection that stared back wasn’t her own, but it smiled warmly at her. She was filled with a sense of peace.
The invaders had torn down the temple, but the old gods hadn’t been forgotten.

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