She sits at the top of the sky, watching as the things take place.

Observing with emotionless joy the unfolding of trivialities large and small, she takes as great an interest in the plight of a newly born sparrow as she does the crumbling of a nation state or the discovery of ‘world-changing’ technologies.

Each individual event is as beautiful, as tragic, as relevant, and as inconsequential as the next in her scheme of things.

Her scheme, that of the universe, places relevance only on the bigger picture. Little weight is given to the ‘how’. These transient details could be different, and the end still the same. They shape things gradually but are forgotten eventually: meanings negligible.

This is why she offers no greater reflection on the demise of an empire than the fortunes of the sparrow. The empire’s impact and input may well receive greater attention in the history books but books count for little when a planet stops. And even less when its star refuses to shine.

But do not think she does not love. She loves each and every action and entity. They are imbued with her love; she loves entirely. And she does so without falling victim to the associated loss of perspective. Humans regularly fail this test.

She sees the same beauty and irrelevance in death as she does in life. And thus she appreciates everything she observes with a detachment allowing for total admiration.

It begins, it ends, and it starts again: as it should, and as it does.



Brian’s secret is that for three hours each day he turns into a giant man. But not an ordinary giant man: one with super human powers.
Obviously this presents various benefits, Brian’s stature in the world being what it is. But there is, however, one rather unusual caveat. Brian never knows with which power he will be gifted from one day to the next.
It’s not usually an issue. Real problems occur only when complacency creeps in. And such occasions have been known to bring about some fairly serious repercussions.
Once, after discovering he had the ability to fly at the speed of light, Brian produced a huge sonic boom over the park, burst through our atmosphere and journeyed way out into space.
The stars and planets stretched out into thin lines of bright colour as he sped through the galaxy, only reverting back to their normal forms as he slowed down and landed on one of Saturn’s larger moons.
There he spent several hours bouncing around contentedly and looking at the rings and things. But when he remembered he had to get home he found he could no longer fly.
Brian was forced to remain in space, 800 million miles away from the Earth, until the arrival of a power capable of facilitating his safe return.
X-ray vision: No.
Super strength: No.
Laser eyes: No.
Stranded for two long weeks, you can imagine his relief when he realised one night he could teleport. Off he zapped back home, insistent that he would never again make the same mistake.
But there have been other little set backs; he once crushed to death two men and their Yorkshire terrier, landing on them after being gifted the ability to leap tall buildings.
He also turned an old woman into solid gold after an unfortunate misadministration of the Midas touch.
But perhaps his worst foray into error was the time he was responsible for burning down a large primary school after emitting an ill-advised fireball.
Still, at least he can rest safe knowing he is beyond capture. Brian is a worm.