Short Story: The Final Leap

Jeffery stumbled to the ground as the empty city street shook around him. With great effort, he pushed back to his feet and looked forward. The shaking slowly came to a stop, and Jeffery focused on the site in front of him. The candy shop to his left had a near perfect cut going straight through it, like someone had taken a slice out of it. His gaze moved from the shop across the street. The cut went extended there too, and perhaps much. With a few cautious steps, he approached the gaping chasm, dropped to his knees, looked over the edge and gazed into its depths.

The hole looked too deep to accurately guess its depth. He looked to his left, then his right. The cut ran on and on in both directions. Jeffrey frowned as a laugh escaped him. His knuckles went white at the edge of the bottomless precipice. Tears trickled down his cheeks, dropping into the void below. He remained fixed to the spot for several minutes until he finally regained his composure, stood up, and removed his worn leather hat. When he spoke, his voice felt unfamiliar.

“I’m coming,” he tried to say, but the words sounded dry and breathy. The worn hat felt strange in his hands. He looked at, held it up, contemplated it. Eyes squinting and jaw tightening, he threw it into the void. It fell with an odd grace, as though supported by some unseen force. The farther it dropped, the more it appeared to slow down. Jeffery took one final breath, released it, looked around at the empty town around him, then leaned forward into the abyss. Falling didn’t feel like he thought it would. He’d expected a rush of air, but instead found a different sensation.

His skin tingled, and for the first time in years, he felt prickles of warmth consuming his body. After only a few seconds, he caught up to his hat, caught it, and placed it back on his head. Any second now, he’d be free. No more lonely timeless hours wandering his solitary world. Dropping into the crack presented great risk, but nothing could be worse than the empty years he’d been forced to spend alone. Either he’d die, or he’d finally return home. As the warmth enveloped him, he no longer cared. Anything. Anything was better.

–

“Time of death?” The nurse asked.

“4:35 p.m.” The doctor responded, “He lasted thirty two point six seconds. I think we have a new record. Adjust the percentage of parleflux in the compound to thirteen percent. That should prevent any cracks in the next one’s consciousness and create a more extreme time dilation.”

“You’ve got it,” The nurse said, approaching a set of dials on the wall, “would you like me to bring the next one in now, or should we take lunch first.”

The doctor stood up straight, stretched his arms, smiled, and said “let’s do lunch.”