Timewalker

When time loops become nightmares, you end up fighting monsters and yourself.

The world had started falling apart for me a few weeks ago. Or maybe it was yesterday? Time—it’s hard to keep track when your life keeps resetting like a scratched record. Ever since I got caught up in the collapse at Orpheum Theater—totally by accident, mind you—things hadn’t been the same. One minute I was in the projection room after hours, watching some weird lights that suddenly appeared dance around like an EDM rave; the next, the building was falling down around me. And then—snap—it was daytime, and I was standing in the wreckage. To me, no time had passed at all, but somehow two weeks had slipped by. I figured that out later. At the time, all I had was confusion, panic, and the sinking feeling that my life had just been rewritten.

And now here I was, running through a rain-slick State Street at midnight, a nightmare with claws hot on my heels.

The creature—a hulking thing easily eight feet tall with limbs corded with muscle and fur so black it seemed to drink the light from the flickering streetlamps—lumbered after me. Its glowing yellow eyes burned through the darkness, and its claws, each as long as my forearm, scraped against the asphalt with every step, leaving deep gouges behind. It didn’t just chase; it hunted, its movements brimming with a predatory confidence that sent chills down my spine. Its snarls rumbled through the air like an approaching storm, and the rank scent of wet fur and coppery blood filled my nose. Every breath I took felt heavy, like the air around it had turned toxic.

I darted down an alley, my boots splashing through puddles, and glanced over my shoulder. It was gaining on me. My heart hammered in my chest as I skidded around a corner, hoping to put some distance between us.

Suddenly, a second me burst into existence, sprinting out of thin air a few feet ahead. My eyes darted to him instinctively, and I caught sight of his torn shirt and the injury on his arm. It looked deep, fresh, and painful. He didn’t even pause to acknowledge me. Instead, he let out an angry shout and lunged at the creature with a broken piece of two-by-four, swinging it like a baseball bat.

“No, no, no, you dumb ass!” I yelled at... myself.

The makeshift weapon cracked against the beast’s head with a hollow thunk. It barely flinched, whipping around with a snarl and swiping at Second-Me with its claws. He ducked just in time, rolling to the side and scrambling to his feet. Without missing a beat, he bolted farther down the alley, shouting insults over his shoulder to keep its attention.

“Great,” I muttered, doubling over to catch my breath for a second. “Fan-fucking-tastic. Now I have to clean this up later. Future-me is a prick.”

The creature hesitated for a moment, its glowing eyes darting between us. Then it roared and barreled after Second-Me, leaving gouges in the pavement with every step. I groaned and followed, my legs burning as I splashed through puddles and tried to keep up.

I caught up just as Second-Me cornered himself behind a dumpster. The beast loomed over him, claws raking against the brick wall and sending chunks of mortar raining down. Second-Me darted left, then right, weaving between trash cans and dumpsters, swinging his broken board at every opportunity. He managed to graze its shoulder, drawing a thin line of blood. The beast roared, lunging forward with blinding speed, and swiped at his head. The blow connected, sending him sprawling to the ground with a deep gash across his forehead. Blood streamed down his face as he forced himself to his feet, swaying but determined.

I grabbed a loose piece of metal piping and charged in, swinging wildly at the creature’s legs. The first blow connected, and the beast stumbled, snarling as it turned on me. Its claws lashed out, catching me across the arm and sending pain flaring up my shoulder. I yelped and back-pedaled, nearly tripping over a discarded trash can.

Second-Me was back on his feet, flanking the creature from the opposite side. He jabbed at its exposed flank with his broken board, landing a solid hit. The beast roared in frustration, spinning and swiping at him, but he ducked and rolled out of the way.

For a moment, we seemed to be holding our own. I swung again, aiming for the creature’s knees, while Second-Me darted in with quick, opportunistic strikes. But the beast was relentless. It feinted toward me, then spun and raked its claws across Second-Me’s chest. He stumbled back with a shout, blood staining his jacket.

“Stay with me!” I shouted, darting in to distract the creature. It turned on me with a snarl, its glowing eyes narrowing as it lunged. I barely managed to sidestep, the tips of its claws grazing my side and tearing through my shirt. The force of the swing knocked me off balance, and I stumbled, hitting the wet ground hard.

The beast loomed over me, raising a massive claw for the killing blow—and that’s when Third-Me appeared.

He stumbled, heavily injured, into existence a few feet away, his jacket torn to shreds and blood dripping from a gash on his forehead. His breathing was ragged, his movements sluggish, but he didn’t hesitate. With a determined yell, he hurled himself into the fray, snagging a jagged length of metal pipe and wielding it like a spear.

Third-Me’s arrival gave us a momentary edge. He drove the pipe into the creature’s side, forcing it to rear back with a howl. I scrambled to my feet, clutching my injured arm, and moved to flank it again. Second-Me, still bleeding but defiant, joined in, landing a solid strike to the beast’s knee with his board.

For a moment, the three of us fought in tandem. The creature lashed out wildly, its claws a blur as it tried to keep us at bay. Third-Me took a hit to the shoulder, spinning from the force, but managed to stay on his feet. I swung my pipe at its head, landing a glancing blow that made it snarl in pain. Second-Me ducked under a swipe and jabbed the creature in the ribs, eliciting another roar.

But we were losing ground. The beast’s sheer strength and speed were overwhelming. Third-Me’s movements were slowing, his injuries catching up with him. Second-Me was clutching his side, his attacks growing weaker. I felt my own exhaustion creeping in, every breath coming in ragged gasps.

I was starting to panic. The thought of resetting and going through this again twisted my stomach into knots.

“Why do time powers have to suck so fucking much?!” I shouted, dodging a swipe that nearly took my head off.

The creature turned its attention to Third-Me, who was too slow to dodge its next strike. The claws sliced toward his throat, and for a moment, everything slowed. Not figuratively. Literally. The world around me seemed to drag, like time itself had hit a patch of molasses.

I felt something snap inside me. My hand shot out instinctively, and a wave of cold, shimmering energy radiated from my palm. Time froze completely. Raindrops hung suspended mid-air. The creature’s snarl was stuck on its lips. Third-Me’s wide-eyed expression looked almost comical frozen in place.

I didn’t have time to question it. I sprinted forward through the frozen scene, shoving Third-Me out of harm’s way just as time snapped back to normal. The creature’s claws slashed through empty air, and it stumbled forward with a confused snarl.

“Got you now,” Third-Me growled, driving the jagged pipe straight into its chest with a sickening crunch. The beast let out one final, echoing howl before collapsing to the ground, its glowing eyes dimming to black.

Third-Me staggered back, panting and leaning against the alley wall. “Finally,” he muttered, sliding down to sit on the wet ground.

Second-Me glared at him, blood running from the gash on his forehead. “Easy for you to say, you’re done!” he grumbled. “We still have to go back!”

He groaned as he started to shimmer, slipping out of existence to fulfill his temporal obligation. I glanced at the alley, realizing with a sinking feeling that I had to sprint back to where he first appeared. The thought of running on exhausted legs made me groan, but I forced myself to start moving.

“I hate my life,” I muttered, picking up a broken piece of two-by-four just as the alley began to blur and the world reset once again.