I knew I should be working, but I was on my computer, scrolling through the same Facebook stories I had already read several times that day. It was then that a person walked into my office and sat down in the other chair. Their features, really any distinguishing characteristics, were difficult to make out. They just sat there, waiting.

“Who are you?” I asked after a moment.

“I am waiting for you to tell me.” The voice, too, was indistinct, as if the words were just there without having been spoken aloud. Neither young nor old; neither soft nor harsh.

“How should I know who you are, if you don’t know yourself?”

But the figure did not respond. It merely looked at me with eyes I could not clearly see. I wanted it to leave, so that I could go back to doing nothing. It stubbornly refused.

Exasperated, I said, “Fine. You are a young woman, around 20.” And she was. “You are five and a half feet tall, and thin. Sharp, almost regal features, with a fierceness behind them, yet a kindness, too. Shoulder length brown hair, and hazel eyes.” Those eyes looked back at me.

“Your name is Cassandra, but only your parents ever called you that. They passed away many years ago.” An old sadness, deep inside, could only be seen by those who knew her well. “You have studied under a mage, a strange old man who calls himself simply ‘Ice.’ You want to find your own path now.”

Cassie smiled at me, a look of gratitude. “Thank you. Now, please, write my story.”

Unable to deny her, I shut down my computer and picked up my pen.


The dragon warily eyed the man dressed in iron. “Why have you come to the mountain, to my home?” The dragon’s voice carried the weight of age and experience. It commanded an answer.

“I am here to slay you, fearsome beast.”

The dragon did not laugh, for the seriousness in the man’s words was evident. “And why do you seek my death? How have I wronged you that only my death will sate your anger and grief?”

“You have done nothing to me, fiend.”

“Yet you call me ‘beast’ and ‘fiend,’ and you propose to end my existence.”

“Just so.” 

“Are you simply another example of the cruelty of humanity? Or is there some other reason I must die?”

“You have terrorized a village just a day’s ride from here. They have implored me to end your threat.”

In spite of itself, the dragon scoffed. “I know the village of which you speak. It was founded over a hundred years ago. I have lived here for over a thousand years. They have never received harm from me. As long as they leave me alone, I am content to suffer their presence. You are misinformed.”

“Do you not breathe fire? Do you not fly on your hunt? How long before you turn your attention to their livestock? Their children?”

The furnace inside the dragon became hotter, and smoke began to spill from its nostrils. “What foolishness. They wish me dead because one day I might threaten them. And you have agreed to this plan. The depraved nature of your kind reveals itself once more. I should end you and the village. Leave now, never return, and I shall forgo my just vengeance.”

“I think not.” As he spoke, the man threw a pouch into the air. It traced an arc towards the dragon’s face, and the dragon breathed once to destroy whatever it might be. As soon as flame touched it, the pouch exploded in a blinding flash. The dragon, blinded by the searing white light, could not see the man approach. It’s vision cleared just as the man thrust his sword into the right eye and deep into the brain.

The dragon deflated where it lay. The man attempted to pull the sword free but could not move it. Looking around the piles of treasure, he found another sword, simple in its appearance, and strapped it to his waist. Now all that remained was to go back to the village to let them know they were finally safe.

Bad Timing

“What do you think happens to us when we die?”

“Are you kidding me?”


“Well, if I’m really lucky, I won’t have to have these kinds of conversations when I’m dead.”

“Come on. Be serious.”

“I am. Why do you always bring up such morbid topics?”

“Aren’t you curious about what comes next?”

“Sure. I mean, I guess. But who knows? There’s only one way to find out, and I’m not very eager to do so today.”

“But what do you think?”

“Look, I get that you are stressed out; I’m stressed out, too. And I know that talking – a lot – is how you deal with stress. Right now, though, we have to defuse this bomb. So maybe we can put the topic of death on hold until we’re finished here, yeah?”



“If you could have one superpower, what would it be?”

“You mean like flight or invisibility?”



“Haven’t you thought about this before?”

“I suppose, but…”

“So what power would you want?”

“It’s kinda stupid.”

“There are no stupid answers. It’s just a fun game.”

“Okay, well, you know how when you have to park a long way from the entrance to a store, and, as you’re walking in, a spot a lot closer opens up?”


“I would want to be able to teleport my car to the closer spot, so I wouldn’t have to walk as far when I leave.”

“You want to be able to teleport?”

“No, not teleportation. Just the ability to teleport my car to open parking spots.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it. It would make trips to busy stores less annoying.”

“I might need to rethink that whole ‘no stupid answers’ thing.”

“Think about it. If you had the ability to teleport yourself or anything, someone would eventually ask you to be on their superteam. That seems like such a hassle. This is a practical power, but not so much that anyone expects you to be a hero.”

“So teleporting your car – just your car – to open parking spots?”

“Yep. I have some other ideas for superpowers. Warning Label Man is one I came up with years ago…”

“You know what? I’m good. Let’s talk about something else.”