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Jamie Marchant


Jamie Marchant is a published author and professor at Auburn University in the great state of Alabama. Her work can be found at www.Short-Story.Me and her forthcoming novel, The Goddess’s Choice, can be found at Reliquary Press.

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worldofmyth


By: Jamie Marchant
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I never saw the hole until I was through it. Now, I’m not talking about a hole in the ground or any benign hole in a wall. I’m talking about a gaping hole in reality—a rip, if you will, in the space-time continuum. I know you are going to say: “How could you not see a ragged rift of absolute darkness and horror? These holes have been around for the last twenty years, virtually your entire life.” And yes, on two previous occasions I have had the misfortune to fall through such holes. But please take into account my diminished eyesight, the continued spinning of the world, and the pursuit of the angry constable.

With the proper application of magic, people have always been able to open a passage between Aracidia, my home realm, and Earth, Aracidia’s technological sister realm, but it took a wizard of enormous power. For the last twenty years, however, holes have been randomly opening both here in Aracidia and on Earth, and people inadvertently crossing between realms has not been an uncommon occurrence, although believe me, it is dangerous and most unpleasant. It’s estimated that one of every two people who enters a rift doesn’t appear on the other side. What happens to them no one knows. Why these rifts in reality have started to occur is also a mystery. Some believe the use of nuclear weapons on Earth is responsible. Others think it was out of control, power-mad wizards here that did it. Or perhaps the two forces combined to disrupt the space-time continuum. I don’t care why. I just know that falling through a hole hurt.

One minute I was barreling down the street, hoping to duck into a convenient alley and lose the constable, and the next I was having every atom in my body thrown about in ways atoms weren’t supposed to be thrown. Then I was lying on my back, surrounded by a bunch of men in orange jumpsuits. Somehow I had landed straight in the middle of the Long Beach city jail. What were the odds of that happening?

I’ve had the misfortune to end up in Long Beach twice before. The second occasion I fell through such holes, I spent time in the jail—all because of a misunderstanding, I assure you—before I was lucky enough to find a hole in the space-time continuum to take me back to Aracidia.

“Wow, man!” one of the prisoners said. “It’s that dude from Aracidia.” At least I think that’s what he said, my atoms still trying to resemble themselves.

I blinked and wiped the blood out of my eye. I noticed a rabbit’s foot hanging from the zipper of another prisoner. As luck would have it, he also had a tattoo of a four-leaf clover on his wrist. While rabbit’s feet and clovers are supposed to be signs of luck, this combination was certainly not lucky for me. You see, I recognized that tattoo. Its owner and I had had a slight misunderstanding. He seemed to be under the impression that I had stolen a gold ring he used to wear on his right hand while, I assure you, I had merely borrowed it to check the quality of the workmanship, which, actually, was very fine.

“Martin,” I said, using my most charming smile. “So nice to see you again.”

Martin smiled, but it wasn’t a smile of friendly greeting. Instead, it was the same smile he had worn while beating me to a bloody pulp over the misunderstanding regarding the ring. I was contemplating whether Martin or Constable Rawlings was a bigger threat to me when the hole closed as abruptly as it had opened, trapping me in the prison yard. “I told you if I ever saw your face again I was going to break every bone in your body.”

I stumbled to my feet and noticed that Martin was surrounded by twelve of his friends. I quickly added this up and determined that made thirteen of them. Now, as I have said, I’m not normally a suspicious man, and the number thirteen usually meant no more to me than any other number, but being outnumbered thirteen to one did seem a tad unlucky. “Ah, yes, I believe you did, but I assure you I had no intention of coming here. I didn’t notice the hole.”
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