The Machine

Switching on the machine's power unit, Barry took a step back as the silver sphere began to hum with vibration from the harmonics regulator and lift off the concrete floor to hover a metre in the air.

The cables and wires attached to the docking cradle held the sphere from rising much higher and Barry's eyes widen with delight as the vibration waves became visible around the curve of the orb's surface.

The humming from the machine grew as did the vibrations, until the entire sphere was a silver blur that began to fade in and out of vision.

It was working.

Barry quickly scanned his laptop screen and saw that all the output readings were within the optimal limits, finally; after so many failed attempts he had finally fixed the stress level harmonics and brought them into alignment. And now, his machine was actually working!

Looking back to the fading sphere, he saw it dissolve right out of existence and leave only a void where its silver shape had been.

The hum stopped abruptly and for a few moments, all sound seems to be sucked out of the room, leaving only a pure silence, devoid of any noise save for the sound of Barry's own breathing in his ears.

Then, with a pulsing wave of air and sound, the sphere reappeared and hovered peacefully where it had been only a few moments earlier, a layer of frost crackled on its surface.

After a moment of hesitation, Barry took a step toward the machine before a figure of a man popped into being right in front of him.

It was him, another Barry; only this one was dressed in what looked to be a well-worn, leather motorcycle outfit and sporting an eye patch over his left eye that hide a long, jagged scar.

The other Barry also looked tougher somehow, harder. Perhaps it was all the spiked studs adored his leather outfit, or the rugged beard, or more than likely, the homemade-looking rifle slung across his back.

In any case, this Barry seemed to mean business, and he came at Barry shouting.

"You have to shut this machine down, you fool!" Tough Barry yelled and he closed in on him, but even as Barry quickly stepped back to get away from the crazed version of himself, Tough Barry seemed to make sure not to come close enough to make actual contact.

"You hear me!?" Tough Barry shouted again. "Tear the machine down or everything and everyone we knew and love will be destroyed!"

Barry felt himself hit against the work bench and he reached back to the machine's power unit as Tough Barry continued to shout at him to turn it off.

"Okay." Barry stammered as he found the switch and flicked it off.

Instantly, the hovering sphere dropped back into its docking cradle with a metallic clunk and the other Barry popped out of existence just as suddenly as he had shown up.

Barry sighed with relief as his cluttered basement workshop was quiet once more.

Well, that was a close one, he thought to himself as he began to disassemble the wiring connection of the machine's main power supply.

When a crazy, alternate-timeline version of yourself comes from the future to tell you to shut down your time machine, you listen.

Apprentice

Being a wizard's apprentice was not as glamorous a vocation as Hansel had envisioned when is poor, dirt-farming mother and father had tried to convince him it was when they had sold him to the old sorcerer, though it did have its moments.

For the most part, Hansel ran errands for the gruff conjurer: making the long trek into the village through the haunted woods; fending off the vengeful spirits that dwelt within with the heavy iron pipe the wizard had given him for when one of the shaky warding spells gave out. 

Once he had finally made it through the treacherous woods, he had learned to ignore the villagers' shouts for him to go back to his 'Devil-master', though not so with being pelted by the rotten fruits and vegetables they threw at him.

Gathering the different items needed for the specific spells was always interesting since most were toxic to the skin or eyes, and so would leave him with terrible rashes to which the wizard would apply some stinking salve concoction that usually stung worse that the skin abrasion. 

Then there was the endless chores the wizard would have him do: sledging out the remnants of the unused potions from the huge cauldron in back behind their modest shack of a house; fixing the countless repairs on the shack's leaky roof, walls, and floor; taking the sorcerer's pet demon out for its daily exercises always proved a challenge for its tiny but powerful wings could lift them both fairly high up before the gave out, sending them plummeting down to the muddy ground in a heap of gnashing teeth and claws.

However, the worse part of the apprentice life was the days he spent in the shape of some horrid creature or other when the wizard's spell experiments went wrong.

Hansel had been a rat, a bat, a toad, a fruit fly, and most retched of all, a cockroach; scurrying out of the light and having to hide with the teeming masses of other roaches that infested the seedier recesses of the latrine.

Thankfully, he would always return to his regular form, with the wizard chastising him for not being around for days as if he was shirking his duties.

And yet, all the trials and tribulations were worth it when, late at night, as the old wizard lay snoring in his bed, Hansel was able to practice spells on his own in the dark of his corner bed of straw.

It would always begin with a tiny spark of light, barely bright enough to see, and then, as he concentrated, the spark would grow bright and brighter into a glowing ball of light in his hand.

Letting the light tumble through his fingers he had learnedto deftly move the glowing ball from one hand to the other, like a jester's juggling. His eyes shimmered with the delight of being able to conjure the ball of energy out of thin air, though the wizard had said something about the energy actually coming from some 'nether dimension' or something in one of his droning speeches on the proper use of magic.

But what the old fool did not know could not hurt him, thought Hansel as he marvelled at the glowing light bouncing to and fro in his hands.

So enthralled at his own magical prowess was he, that on this night, the second spark of light coming into existencebehind him went unnoticed. 

It too grew into a glowing ball of radiant light, yet it kept on growing rapidly until it was a sphere half of the size of Hansel that then started to flicker from within.

Hansel noticed his shadow dancing in front of him on the freshly swept floor and turned to see the orb of light hanging in the air behind him. His concentration lost, the small ball of light was sucked from his hand into the bigger sphere with a hissing sound. 

Peering into the light, which was somehow not harsh on his eyes, Hansel saw the flickering and leaned in closer to examine the shifting darkness that began to crackle through the ball's core.

Moving closer still, he saw the cracks in the light were actually letting out shafts of darkness as if there was something behind the shell of light; something void of light.

Suddenly, the cracks broke open and monstrous claws reached out from the darkness within and grabbed hold of Hansel's face and before he could utter a scream, pulled him wholly through the gap. The gap being slightly too small for his shape, caused his flesh to be ripped off as he was dragged through.

Once his bloody feet had disappeared through the dimensional opening, the glowing light collapsed in on itself and blinked out of existence, leaving only the pulpy mess of Hansel's hair, clothes, and skin on the straw covering the floor that had been his bed. 

Awaking in the morning to find the mass of gore that was once his bumbling apprentice, the wizard grunted to himself and went to get the shovel to casually clean up. That had been his fifth apprentice in as many years; the fools never listened to his teachings. 

Oh well, he thought as he hummed a happy little tune while scooping up the muck, he only had cost two bricks of manure and a hen, which had happened to be his last apprentice anyway.

The Jungle

With the jungle floor far below and the green canopy of leaves above, she sped along the high branches, effortlessly leaping from tree to tree, rushing to the danger that awaited her to the east.

The muscles of her strong limbs worked beneath her sun-soaked skin as she used the vines and hanging branches to carry herself across the tree tops along side her companions that had come to warn her of the distress on the far side of the jungle.

Twin chimpanzees moved deftly beside her; their unusual silence telling her of the urgency of the situation. Down on the ground, travelling as their shadow, a midnight-furred panther tracked its fellow travellers with unmatched skill.

All together, the four of them raced eastward toward the rushing of the river that splits the jungle in two; toward the darkness that lay on the other side.

Soon they reached the edge of the tree cover and came to an anxious stop, the panther pacing back and forth along the river bank while she and the twins stood high up on over-hanging branches, scanning the rapidly moving water for their young friend.

She held a hand over her eyes to shield them from the bright light of the sun that shinned in the sky overhead. Her amber hair and spotted cloth garments flapped in the moisture-filled breeze as she searched the waters for any sign of the cub.

Excited screeches beside her caused her to look over and find the twins pointing and jumping wildly down at the river bank to her right; the far river bank.

Down on the muddy shore of the wide river, a small orange and black figure pulled itself out of the speeding waters and scrambled up the bank to collapse with exhaustion on the dirt ground at the foot of the towering trees of the other side.

For a moment she was relieved the tiger cub was safely out of the river, but the loud roar of the panther brought her attention to the shadowy figures moving through the darkness of the trees toward the resting young cub.

Without hesitation, she jumped to the next branch, grabbed hold of a strong vine that wrapped itself around the tree from the jungle floor, and, with a dashing leap, she vaulted herself sidelong through the air above the river.

The tension of her weight and trajectory of her swing caused the vine to unravel itself from the top of the tree, giving her enough length to just reach half way across the water. At the apex of her swing, with a loud grunt, she let go and let herself fly freely down toward the other side of the river.

With acrobatic agility, she rolled herself into a tumble as she landed somersaulting onto the muddy riverbank, covering herself from head to toe in the dark muck.

Not stopping a beat, she rolled to her feet and raced toward where the unconscious tiger cub lay. Running parallel to her, amongst the dark shadows of the trees, the threatening figures uttered terrifying shrieks as they neared their prey.

Pounding her bare feet on the hard-packed ground, she quickened her paced but could feel the other creatures' speed up as well, with only a few lengths between her and the cub she could see that the loud screams had woken the tiger out of its daze and his dark eyes were bulging with terror.

One last push of effort and she dove out for the cub and snatched him by the scruff, tumbling into a ball; the swiping of razor-sharp claws narrowly missing the exposed skin of her back and legs as she rolled down the river bank.

Not daring to look back she came out of her tucked roll and dove directly into the rushing river, holding the cub by its scruff in her mouth as a tigress would. Paddling hard and fierce, she slowly work her way across the river, the wild screams of the creatures on the east bank muffled under the splashing water.

With barely enough strength to move her arms she felt herself being pulled along the current toward the all-engulfing falls that raged over the colossal drop to the craggy rocks below.

Opening her mouth, she let the cub slide into her arms as she began to sink under the rushing water.

Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through her shoulder and she felt herself being lifted out of the water and dragged roughly to shore.

The panther pulled her with his massive jaw clamped onto her shoulder until she was fully out of the river and then her let go, leaving puncture wounds that bled freely; though they would heal more quickly than any injury she would have sustained being dashed upon the rocks at the bottom of the falls had he not intervened.

Coughing out water, she sat up and lifted the young tiger up to glare at him in the eyes as he looked sheepishly back.

Across the river the screeching creatures slinked back into the shadows of the trees, their sickeningly yellow eyes glowering at their lost meal, while the group of friends stared silently back as they gathered on west river bank.

Looking back at the young cub she growled her own threatening disapproval and the little tiger flinched as she only ruffled his soaked furry head with her hand.

The little prince of the jungle would be getting enough punishment from their majesties when she got him home as it was. Perhaps, she thought, we can take our time getting back.

Bazaar

Nestled deep within the bazaar, in amongst the crowded merchants, all selling their specialties of spices, silks, textiles, and exotic foods, there is a singular stall which only has one item for sale; one rare and mysterious artefact that is only meant for one individual, and for that individual alone.

This particular stall has existed ever since the ancient market was open, thousands of years ago, and yet it has gone unnoticed by most, staying just slightly out of view, mixed in with the much more colourful and interesting shops.

From generation to generation, the shop's owners have passed over the maintenance of the stall from father to son, mother to daughter; all through the years, waiting for its one special customer to come along and purchase its one piece of merchandise.

Leisurely strolling through the busy laneways between the rows of shops, Lance browsed listlessly, paying little attention to the shouting hawkers trying to entice him with their myriad of unique treasures not to be found anywhere else, especially not at the next booth boasting the same of an identical pot or rug.

Walking on, he almost went passed the plain and completely bare stall at which there sat an elderly man behind the empty counter staring directly at him. The uniqueness of the sparse stall was what caught his attention as it practically shone like a beacon amongst the other lavishly decorated booths.

He stopped and wandered over to the stall, trying to see what, if anything it offered. Seeing nothing, Lance asked the old shopkeeper what he was selling.

The old man beckoned him closer and Lance moved to lean in and put his hand on the counter top. With startling quickness, the leather-skin man lunged forward and grabbed his hand with a firm grip and twisted it palm up forcefully.

Lance started to protest but fell silent as the old man only traced the lines of his palm with a bony finger, muttering in a language Lance did not recognize.

With a crackling shout, the old man let go of Lance's wrist and looked into his eyes with a wild excitement. Speaking quickly and laughing gleefully, the shop keep turned to the back of his stall and opened a dusty chest that was the only thing beside a well-worn stool within the dirt-floor stall.

Lance tried to peer around him as the old man hunched over the chest but it was of no use, yet the merchant soon turn back around to him, cradling something in his arms.

As the old man brought it closer, Lance could see it was wrapped up inside a vividly coloured cloth and it was not much larger than a big grapefruit.

Looking around suspiciously to make sure there were no onlookers, the old man then solemnly and delicately unfurled the cloth to reveal a platinum orb that filled the entirety of his palm.

Motioning for Lance to take the sphere, the shopkeeper dumped its surprisingly hefty weight to Lance's awaiting hand. Regarding the smooth surface of the orb, Lance tried to think of what it could be. He looked to the shopkeeper who was grinning happily and holding up one finger to intricate the price.

Lance asked what it was and what it did, but the old man simply nodded and pointed with his one finger at the sphere and then indicated the price again.

With a shrug, Lance dug into his bag with his free hand and pulled out one coin, still looking inquisitively to the old man, and questioned the low price, but showing his lightning speed once again, the shopkeeper snatched the coin from his hand and laughed and waved as if to confirm their transaction was complete.

Further questioning only brought more nodding and waving so Lance shrugged again and turned his attention to the shining orb as he walked away from the odd little stall.

A gust of wind picked up and blew stinging sand up into his face, so Lance turned back to shield himself from the dusty onslaught only to see that the booth was no longer there.

No empty plot, no trace of it at all, only the other stalls pushing up onto one another as they had always been.

Taking a step toward where the booth had been, Lance was bumped into by a hurried delivery boy, striding quickly to his next drop off, causing the orb to drop out of his hand and onto the well-beaten ground with crack.

Bending down quickly after it, Lance picked the orb up gingerly, only to see that it had split neatly along its circumference, as if it was meant to be opened there.

Curiously, he twisted the two halves of the orb and it opened up to reveal a hand made coffee mug nestled inside the shell casing. Letting the sphere halves drop away, Lance held the well made mug by its smooth handle and read the lettering that was printed in bold block lettering with blue dye.

Unbelievingly, he stared at what seemed to be an anciently-made, yet modern designed mug which read 'Lancelot St Hoilett: World's Greatest Lover'.

Laughing to himself, Lance thought what a turn of luck, he had always wanted a mug just like it, and, until now, had not been able to find one.

City of Ghosts

Walking down the crowded sidewalk, Joshua barely even looked up from his phone to watch where he was going, he only moved along with the flow of the sea of other pedestrians, none of whom were  looking up from their phone screens either.

It was the usual walk from work to the train station and no one took notice of anyone else.

He dropped the few spare coins he had in his pocket into the cup of the homeless man that was always sitting on the street corner before the station, but he barely even registered the automatic act of kindness as he walked on.

A shrill tire screen did make him look up for a moment, but there was no immediate danger, so Joshua went to turn his attention back to his phone. Yet, before he lowered his gaze again he briefly saw a young woman walking a short distance ahead of him, heading towards him.

It was not her attractive, slightly sad face that made him take notice of her, but the fact that she had just walked right into an oncoming business man and had passed through him.

The sight made Joshua to stop dead in his tracks, causing the annoyed legions behind him to grumble about watching where he was going as they cascaded around him. Not hearing the other pedestrians' protests, he stood and stared as the tall, pale girl walked closer, some pedestrians narrowly dodging her, others passing right through her as if she was not there.

She passed where he stood and he felt the urge to reach out with his finger tips to gently brush her shoulder, but he only gaped at her as she seemed to float by.

Unable to stop himself, Joshua turned and began to follow her, heading in the direction he had just come.

Keeping his eyes fixated on her deftly moving shape, he weaved in and around the oncoming pedestrians as they hurried passed on their regular routes home, none of them even noticing the ghostly spirit that moved through them as she walked determinedly onward.

A few times he nearly caught up with her, but she always rushed ahead with sudden quickness to stay just out of reach, so Joshua had to speed up his pace, sometimes hitting into an unlucky passerby who was not swift enough to move out of his path.

Again and again the girl flitted in and out of people, gaining more ground than he could as he had to move around those that she had merely passed through. Until at last they reached an intersection and the crowds fell away, giving him a clear course as the girl strode out into the street.

Hurrying out to follow her, Joshua reached out his hand as he closed in on her, but again, another shrill tire screech distracted him for a split second and in a flash of screams and pain, he lost her.

Standing alone in the middle of the intersection he looked around and saw himself laying askew on the pavement, the driver of the car that had skidded to a halt in front of where his body lay, was out and kneeling down beside his broken body, shouting silently for help.

Joshua looked back at the horrified crowd, staring at the accident and taking pictures and videos on their phones in a dreaming slow motion, and saw the girl standing in front of them, looking directly at him.

She walked slowly up to where he stood and offered her slender hand to him, which he confusedly took and let her lead him back through the gawking crowd.

As they walked through the throngs of people, he saw others walking along with them, turning to nod at him and then continuing on their way. Then Joshua saw that there were a multitude of them, crowding the busy city streets; all wandering unseen; a city of ghosts.

Break Through

He had done it; he had broken through!

Henry did an excited fist pump to himself as he sat back in his creaky desk chair and admired the accomplishment that was displayed on the glow of his computer monitor.

In the dimly lit room, hidden away in the depths of his parents' basement, his workstation was littered with miscellaneous computer parts and soldering equipment along with empty soda pop cups and greasy hamburger wrappers. He had not washed or even slept for what seemed days, yet those day to day tasks seemed irrelevant to the project; his life's work.

All the lack of sleep, hygiene, and his poor health was worth it now that he had accomplished what he had set out to do; what no one else in history had done before.

Leaning forward to peer at the image on the screen, Henry reached for a half finished burger and began munching on it absently. The blue hue of the monitor radiated eerily on his face, giving him a ghoulish complexion as his eyes focused intently on the subject on the screen.

It had all seemed so simple once he had remembered a lesson which every high school science teacher had taught in even the most remedial of their classes; everything is made up of matter, and matter is made up of information; calculations, reactions, counteractions, and formulas, all making up everything in the universe.

If that was so, Henry had reasoned, then that information could be hacked into like any other computer program, so that you could break down the secure walls of reality and see what lies beneath.

The most difficult task was creating the sensors that could take the readings from around a specific space, like his downstairs bedroom, and have them feed the data into his CPU so that he could interact with the real world using his computer as a gateway; much like how one interacts with the internet, only the information that is streaming in and out of the processor is the matter that is actually making up the fabric of reality.

Once he had his hardware build and the program configured, it was a relatively easy matter of breaking down the data to code and manipulating it as he had with so many systems before.

And finally, he had done it; he had broken through; broken through our reality into the next.

Continuing to stare fixedly at the display, Henry's brain exploded with the possibilities that his discovery had brought, for there, right on his computer monitor was a window into another dimension.

The figure on the display was sitting at their workstation similar to his own, looking keenly into their similar monitor, snacking on a similar looking hamburger.

Henry almost could not believe what he was seeing, was it another version of himself in another dimension working on their computer as he snuck a glimpse into their reality?

Henry went to reach for a drink of pop but was distracted by the movement of the other in the monitor making the same motion and knocked the half filled cup over, sending it splashing to the floor.

The noise startled him and he swore as he looked down at the mess of syrupy soda that pooled on the concrete floor and then quickly looked back to the monitor as to not miss anything.

Only, when he looked back, the other him was now staring straight back at him, as if he could see Henry watching somehow, yet just behind his double, he caught a glimpse of something even more startling.

On the monitor of the alternate reality Henry, was another Henry, also looking back at his observer, and in his monitor was yet another Henry, and another, and another, reaching back into infinity.

Henry felt his mind begin to unravel as the feeling of being observed himself stole over his awareness.

Slowly he turned away from the infinite display of other Henrys to look over his shoulder.

In the darkness behind him, he saw, only for a single moment before the countless universes collapsed upon each other; he saw what he had done and screamed before reality blinked out of existence.

Maggie

Out on the grassy cliffs that over look the boundless sea, sits Maggie, the salt-saturated winds blowing her long, auburn hair back behind her as she faces the crashing waters defiantly.

In her hands she holds a study fiddle and bow, on which she plays her lively song.

She plays it over and over again, her pretty features set in a stern gaze of concentration as her fingers move deftly over the strings and her right arm works the bow across them wildly.

The tune travels over the high cliffs and out across the churning waters, seeking out its intended audience.

Each day since her lover had set out on his journey with his ship and crew to find their fortune on the high seas, Maggie has come out to call him back to her with her passionate song. Each evening, her fingers no longer able to move for the cold sea winds, she makes her way home to her lonely stone house which sits, much like herself, solitarily out on the barren Moors.

Once day break comes, she heads out again with her instrument to the wooden chair that waits for her out on the cliff's edge.

On this particularly grey and miserable day, the dark clouds overhead threatening to burst with rain and thunder, she plays her song and far off in the horizon, Maggie sees the outline of a ship growing larger.

The closer it comes, the more fervently she plays, as if her playing was drawing the craft toward her. Indeed, the multi-sailed ship seemingly speeds directly to her place atop the cliffs.

Though no place for the ship to land or ever moor itself is anywhere near by, it continues to steam full ahead, aimed directly for the steep cliff face; Maggie's fiddle still playing frantically, to the point it seems ready to burst into flames.

Until, in a deafening crash, the ship smashes itself upon the sheer cliffs, its wooden hull exploding into millions of splinters while its crew is flung violently to the be dashed upon the craggy rocks below where Maggie looks on.

Breathing heavily, her song finally silent and her fiddle and bow still held tightly at her sides, she sands and watches with crazed eyes as the carnage of the shipwreck sinks quickly into the depths.

Getting a glimpse of the name painted across the stern of the sinking vessel, she knows it is not her lover's, yet she sniffs with satisfaction at her day's work.

One day, she would bring his ship back to her, and her lonely heart would have its revenge upon the high-reaching cliffs.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MlEJeZcvK4g