I haven’t written much fiction in years, but I found some handwritten bits and pieces from a very boring training a few years ago. I’m not planning to ever try reusing these, so while I’ve slightly edited in retyping them, I’m sharing them here. First one today, second soon, probably limited to two. I’ll consider putting further writing exercises and shorts, and/or some of my old-old writing up here should anyone be interested. Longer pieces will be after the break; this one isn’t long enough.
“Bob, turn around,” came a voice from behind him where there should only have been empty desert. Bob turned slowly, placing a hand upon the rifle at his shoulder.
Standing half a dozen feet behin him was a short young man in khakis and a green polo shirt. His pallor, messy hair and glasses gave bob the sense of someone who studied too much.
“You don’t need the gun, Bob.”
Bob eyed the stranger carefully, then relaxed. “You’re from earth? How do you know my name?”
“This too is Earth,” said the young man, gesturing around them. “In a manner of speaking, at least. Just not one that either of us knows.”
“What do you mean? There’s only one earth, and this,” snorting for emphasis, “sure isn’t it.”
“No, it’s not the Earth from your home universe. Or my own. But it’s an Earth.”
“What? Home universe? Since when is there more than one? How did we get here, then?”
“I can’t explain all of that to you, Bob. This place has its rules, and that would be breaking a big one.” The young man paused a moment. “But I think you know in one sense how you got here, if not why.”
Bob thought for a moment. “There was a crash of light, and my car crashed. I must’ve been knocked out for a minute. I think. When I came to my senses, I sure as heck wasn’t along I-80 anymore. And Mary was gone.”