Hugh J. O'Donnell

The Year 13 Billion Angelic Reunion was off to a rocky start. Things were going alright until the devils showed up, being loud and destructive and just generally unpleasant.
The Ishim, in the floor seats, saw them first, and nearly stampeded. Michael and Gabriel had their flaming swords out at the first moment, but Lucifer merely smiled and held up an envelope.
“We were invited,” he insisted. All eyes, even the Ophamnins’, turned to Uriel, the event coordinator.
“They were once angels,” they insisted. Only the quick intervention of Samael and Sandalphon dividing the room in two prevented a brawl.

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“It’s coming,” the barbarian said, his back bracing against the door. On the other side of the heavy oak, thundering footsteps were approaching fast. The wizard raised her staff. The tip flared searing white in preparation as the thief and cleric dived under a table.
I heard a great snuffling and sniffing, followed by an earsplitting roar.
“Listen up, bard.” The barbarian said, glaring dangers at me. “You’re the one that recruited the dragon into the party, so you have to be the one to explain why it can’t follow us to the tavern. We’re barely welcome as it is!”

As the quarantine spread through the city, the vampire watched, and he waited. He didn’t understand the reports, something about a virus. Germ theory was after his time and he refused to truck with any such modern notions. But he knew a plague year when he saw one.
He’d eaten well, during the plagues. It was harder now. People were being careful, they were staying out of public spaces where he could reach them. But he had new methods.
He rang the doorbell in front of the house. “Hello? This is Vladimir from Quick Bites? I have your food delivery!”

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Every morning before dawn, she went out and collected swords. She had to be careful, and she had to be quick. At first light all the warriors rose to begin their battle anew.
They spent the nights feasting and drinking, and she was obliged to serve them. She only had a few minutes each day to sneak away and collect her treasures.
Every new moon, the ironmonger would come and buy what she had pilfered, paying her a pittance. She hoarded her iron and her gold, and dreamed of the day when she would finally make enough to escape Ragnarok.

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“Hey Lenny!” The other raven sidled up to him on the railing. A beautiful spring morning was about to be ruined, again. He tried to fly away, but another raven had appeared on his left, boxing him in.
He could hear it building on the edge of hearing, a peppy beat from nowhere. The two ravens were telling each other terrible jokes, building towards the inevitable burst of show tunes, with him caught in the middle.
He had vague memories of another life, before the endless singsong. He remembered having too much to drink, a car crash, flames, and darkness.

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Time travel proved too dangerous for humans, but the technology still had its uses. We sent robots back to study the past.
We kept them out of the anthropocene to prevent any paradoxes, but the Jurassic was another story. We’d send back a geotagged bot, then dig up their data in the same spot. Their AI was super-advanced, almost human, which did lead to some foibles.
I tried to explain to my boss as they watched unit 77J’s ultimately destructive attempt to learn to surf.
“At least we learned a lot about tidal action of that era,” I ventured.

She began saving time. She kept it in a jar on her bedside table, next to the one that held her loose change, the minutes and seconds piling on top of one another until it was overflowing with moments that glittered in the morning sunlight. Then she moved it to her safe. She’d hate for it to be stolen.
“I was wasting so much of it,” She told a friend over lunch.
“What are you going to do with it, though?” He asked. “Take a trip? Pay off some regrets?”
“I’m going to keep it in a bottle,” she decided.

The gods were leaving.
They’d left behind their texts, the sacred fires, and vials of healing water, and boarded a silver boat that sailed through the sky. The high priests averted their eyes, bowing in supplication until their vessel was out of sight. Then, they turned on each other. Nobody understood why they had been abandoned, but each was sure it was one of the others’ fault.
Aboard the rocket, Lexy watched the undeveloped alien planet shrink, sadness mixing with a warm feeling. She was sure it was better off than when she’d found it. Missionary work was so rewarding.