Static crackling around the multiverse portal stood my hair on end. That or plain fear.
Someone said, “I don’t understand, he’s you! What’d you do to him?”
“Honestly,” I answered, “I have no idea. But whatever it was pissed other me off so much that now he’s gunning for me in this universe.”
I opened and closed my fists, crunched my neck until it popped–like in the movies before the big boss fight. I have no idea how that’s supposed to help.
“But you don’t even know how to fight!”
“True. But lucky for me that means he doesn’t either.”
Marc A. Criley lives in north Alabama and writes stories that are short and sometimes even shorter. He’s been published in Beneath Ceaseless Skies, Galaxy’s Edge, Martian Magazine, and elsewhere. Marc maintains a blog at kickin-the-darkness.com and noisily tweets as @That_MarcC.
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