Wednesday, 13 March 2013


by John Xero

Jerome flinched as he scratched his head and more hair fell away. His skin was dry, flaking, covered with livid sores. The blood beneath his fingernails disturbed him.

He squinted as he adjusted the chronal fibrillator, cursing his failing eyes.

Time fluttered around him.

His garage walls vanished, replaced by a broken wasteland stretching into the distance. The harsh air clawed at his lungs and rasped his eyes.

Then he was back in his garage, back in twenty thirteen.

How did it all end? When did it begin? He'd only jumped three years forward that time, and still too late.

Author bio: Time gets us all, in the end. The future is like quicksilver – a distorted mirror, hard to grasp, fatal.
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  1. This is wonderful, John.
    Time fluttered around him - left me breathless.

  2. Nice! Is this part of the longer thing you're working on?

    1. Thanks, Larry. No, just written for itself. =)

  3. Excellent story. Quite a warning cry for our earth. I also really enjoyed the line, "Time fluttered around him."

  4. I like this idea. Works brilliantly here but would also make a cool short story.

    1. Thank you, Pete. =)

      Would have to try and avoid the obvious 'he caused the whole thing to happen' plot, though.