100/100 -22-

The envelope lay next to the razor. Elise had given him the envelope a year ago, before she’d disappeared. One day, she’d said, he would follow her on the journey. The moment it became too much, she’d said pleadingly, he had to read the message. Wiping his eyes, he cut open the envelope. A small introduction card fell out, written in her beautiful script.

“Have you considered going mad instead?”

He laughed. And the tears that fell didn’t stop the laughter. The razor dropped like a swan’s fart in his hands as the melody of Elise’s voice echoed in platinum.

100/100 -21-

The son held the mask in his hands, looking as if he were about to throw up.
“-You’re- Captain Awesome?!?”

His father nodded, smiling. His son had grown, becoming more a reflection of his own youthful days.

“Yes, I felt it was time…”

“But you –can’t- be. You don’t understand…”

The father nodded, pulling out a small pile of ‘Captain Awesome and Lightning Lord’ slash comics. His son looked just about ready to die.

“I found these in your room…And thought it was time for both of us to have an honest conversation.”

And in time, both of them laughed.

100/100 -20-

“And he can punch through steel, and he can fly and he protects the city!” The boy sat with his dad in the main room of their tiny apartment. He held his brand new Captain Awesome figurine like a cherished treasure.

His father smiled, watching him play. “So what’s his secret identity?”

“No one knows. I bet he’s some kind of super-scientist or billionaire!”

“You know what I think? I think he’s just some hard-working guy who tries to juggle taking care of a kid on his own with his pledge for justice.”

“That’s silly, daddy.”

His father smiled indulgently.

100/100 -19-

The alchemist sat glumly on the stone floor tapping at the edge of the chalk circle. It’s not that he didn’t want to leave, but his legs just didn’t want to go past the edge. Beyond the ring were walls that operated two dimensions further than his eyes allowed, painted in the chartreuse of madness. A demon sat in a chair, grinning, the layers of his teeth grinding against each other. It rubbed between its tentacles a lock of the alchemist’s hair.

“Well?” Said the alchemist impatiently.

“I just wanted you to see what it felt like,” said the demon.

100/100 -18-

The intern stared up the length of the Chase Tower, swallowing. The curve of it swept up high past the Loop.

“I can’t do this.”

“Put your hands on the building. What do you see?”

The intern leaned forward, staring up the length of the concrete, his heart racing. The curve of the building created a false perspective. He was no longer looking up, but forward.

“All magic is perspective. Find a point, change your perspective, and act.”
The moon passed over the edge of the tower.

The intern stretched, pressing his foot on the concrete.

“RUN TO THE MOON!”

100/100 -10-

Talafiara, the queen of the fairies, sat alone in the marble garden atop the Harold Washington library. At every corner of the building, the great Bronze Owls searched the city and beyond. Beneath her, the amassed knowledge of the world was stacked in half a dozen layers, hovering over a glyph that contained the city’s past and future. Her guards wandered the stacks disguised as hipsters and the homeless. She bit the nail of her thumb as she curled tighter on her throne, eyes searching every entrance. She might return. The girl who said fairies were nonsense. She just might…

100/100 -9-

The tiny sprite within the glass danced in emerald joy, sailing in and out of sight as the liquid poured. She beckoned to all at the table, enticing, enchanting. She was the gateway to inspiration, and music, or so the mortals believed. Her heart was wormwood, and her true gifts were madness and death. The icy water flowed over her, clouding her skin, as her power awakened. But the sweetness, the enticement…Was off. It burned her. Her louched countenance withered and shrieked in anguish.

“What on earth are you doing?!?”

“Splenda. Can’t have real sugar. Shouldn’t affect the taste much.”

100/100 -8-

“So what went wrong?”

“Nothing! I swear! The doll was made from the finest porcelain, fired in the tradition of the great alchemists, painted with the wishes of little girls, and the tears of the women they would become. The glass of her eyes were made from the sands of time. Her hair was threaded gold. The mechanisms within formed the essences of the tree of life, the jewels fixing them in place were iterations of chakras. She would have been a living automaton. A perfect daughter.”

“And the winding mechanism?”

“Grenade timer. Do you think that was the problem?”

100/100 -7-

“What’s on the menu?”

“All sorts of good things. Fox oden, Nine demon soup…”

The intern looked down at the menu, Trying to read the characters next to the prices. It didn’t help that they kept shifting on the page as he tried to read them.

“Isn’t this the Nine Demon Café?”

“Yep. Run by nine demons.”

“Are they…”

“Slow barbecued, coated in a sweet sauce, and served with noodles in broth? Oh yes. One of the benefits of being immortal. You can use your own body as ingredients.”

The intern paled.

“It’s rare that something really is magically delicious.”

100/100 -5-

The queen of the sparkleponies worked on her scrapbook as her fairy assistants fluttered, glistening under the glass of the sacred moon chamber. She examined the pages, containing hundreds of images of sparkleponies, each one more darling and dimpled than the next. She took her time, affixing new pictures in the tome, as she recited their names in loving memory. Beauty was the currency of the sparkleponies, and each of these lovelies represented wealth nearly as great as the Queen’s. She smiled admiringly at them all, noting that the glittering glue made from their boiled hooves formed the ideal adhesive.

100/100 -4-

She knelt reverently in the basement of 2nd Hand Tunes. Surrounding her were theosophic seances, throat music, and the chantings of Siberian Khlysty pressed in vinyl. She gathered the records into a pile, and climbed the stairs. The cashier smiled as she gathered her funds.

“Interesting mix.”

“We’ll see once I get them on the tables.”

“Bringing something special to the party, dear?”

She winked as she touched the plaque on the door, matching a tattoo on her arm.

‘The sword cuts the barrier. The torch lights the way. And the break is the voice of God in the Song.’

100/100 -3-

The cyclist gazed up at the bag being attached to the IV, watching the deep dark fill into his arm.

“What’s it this time?”

“Something special. This will do the trick.”

The coach gave him the thumbs up. The cyclist sighed. Transfusions rarely did much, but were illegal enough to get you banned from racing. As he rested, however, his heart picked up speed. The room was so painfully bright, and the blood in the bag…wasn’t nearly enough. He was going to need so much more. The coach smiled, his canines lengthening.

“Thank goodness the race is at night, eh?”

100/100 -2-

“It’s all math,” said the sorcerer, as he tapped on his ipad. “Prayers, incantations, all rely on set forms of mathematics. Did you know Sir Gawain and The Green Knight had a prayer encoded into the meter of the poem? Incredibly complex pattern. Formed a seal of Solomon when it was decoded. No one knows what it was for. But, when you know the patterns, and can grasp the math. It can be put to all sorts of purposes.” He finished and pressed ‘send’.

“Hello! Good Friend I am the Director of Economics for Nigeria. Ten Million is locked away…”