I received a letter from myself from a parallel universe earlier today. I was only about twenty minutes out from leaving for work, so I figured I would just read it later. My curiousity got the best of me though. What if he is living much better than me, and I could easily change to become just like him. Hopefully not. Hopefully he’s doing much worse and I can follow the groove of my own habits resting assured that in the cosmic bell curve I rank slightly above average.

The letter was written on the same note pad that I stole from my grandmas friend many years ago. Interesting what stays the same throughout universes. First thing I noticed is that version of me speaks so dramatically. I’m sure he would claim to hate all the melodrama, but I can tell he thinks it makes him more interesting. Made it more of a chore to read.

He’s not doing well, thank god. It seemed obvious to me why. He’s still friends with them, and he’s still with her. The bullshit he is yet to shed. Of course he doesn’t feel like himself, of course he feels best when he’s alone. It would be very easy for me to write to him, “my beautiful baby bird, fly far far away, and in the above the clouds, in complete solitude, you will look back down at your life, and realize how far away from it and yourself you always were,” but, I think it would be unethical to meddle in such foreign affairs. Don’t want a big butterfly effect thing. So I write back to him, sounds like it sucks, wish I could help. Then I grab my keys and leave, to arrive, if I speed, twenty minutes late to work.

The letter came early in the morning, addressed to me. The letter was wrapped in a neat foil, not the usual envelope that was used nowadays. The sticker addressing it to me didn’t have any information of where it was sent from. I ripped apart the letter with my hands, still walking inside. It was a letter written on paper that was browning. It was a very thin sheet of paper that was almost crumpling up from age. I read the letter carefully.

To Hunter
From Ħűňťęř
——————————

I hope this letter finds you in good health. For there is something that has been compelling me to write this letter to you now. It has come to my attention about the unprecedented danger that urges me to write to you. 
This letter is from me, to you. You, evidently are my parallel self, from a parallel world. For you, I believe that it is the other way around. There is a grave danger that has been tormenting our world, and we need you to open the portal so we can find refuge in your world until it discovers our hiding place. If you don’t open the portal our world will be destroyed and our indispensable connection will be lost. There will be no Hunter, as there will be no me either. You will be gone as soon as I inevitabley fall victim to its evil. I cannot dispose of what it is, for that will only make it all worse. If you don’t open the portal, then you yourself will die. We are interconnected. If one of us dies, the other follows. This portal will save both of us from it. Then we can live on with our very different lives. 
Hello me from a parallel world, this is a call for help. I must get on and make this letter worthy of some decency. To open the portal you must precisely light 5 candles. Go to a woods

and blow them all out in the same order you lit the candles, then make an X out of small twigs, and the portal will open and all will be saved. Hunter, I have hope that you will understand the importance of this letter, and the future that depends on you.

Sincerely,
Ħűňťęř…
 ———————

My heart dropped. How could there be a parallel version of me living in a parallel world. I stared at the letter blankly, debating if it was really legit. 
“There’s no way,” I said through gritted teeth. 
I pulled on my coat, fitting it over my shoulders and pulling my arms through the arm holes. I grabbed 5 candles I had kept in the basement. I nervously flipped the light switch on. If I didn’t act now, who knows when it would be too late. I sprinted down the stairs. A dim light hung above, the light bulb hanging from 3 small wires that connected to it. The lightbulb swung back and forth gently. I was too lazy to fix it, I’m expecting to hear it crash to the ground any night now. My heart pounding in my chest, I rummage through the pile of stuff. Everything was out of order, like I had just tossed it in a corner and let it accumulate over time. The pile eventually gave away and spilled over onto the ground. Searching through the rubble that seemed to never end, I threw a random thing of glowsticks I was going to use for a party—then I got sick and couldn’t attend. 
I threw things into another corner, to occupied with finding candles to place them in indivuidual organized piles. I spotted a candle, put to use but still useable. I placed the candle behind me and continued to search through the debris frantically. I threw a book series called Mind Kind my high school forced me to read. It was some corny book about thinking and acting kindly. I remember the first page precisely from how horrible it was. 
I threw the other 2 books in the series away. The second one was Mind Kind: Kind Mind. Then the third one was Mind Kind: Kind Mind Kind Mind. The whole series felt like a joke that some 50 year old man wanted to do for the purpose of making a few bucks. I spotted the second candle, but this one was still in its wrapping. I ripped open the plastic covering it before stuffing it behind me with the first candle. Then, underneath a pile of painting I had drawn when I was 2, was candles 3 and 4. After that I found a plant pot that had no signs of use. I threw that with the other stuff. Then I slowly turned to look at it, broken in pieces. Apparently I didn’t think to gently set it down.

Right under 25 pieces of blank paper was the 5th and final candle. My eyes widened and I could almost hear the sound of glass—no, the light bulb fell down. I quickly gathered up the candles, stepping over the small glass shards. In my kitchen, I numbered the candles 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5. I grabbed my lighter and held down the switch. A flame gently turned in the thick air. I lit the candles based on their numbers. Then, carefully running out the house, candles in hand, I got in my car. 
Houses passed me as I turned the corner into the woods. People were walking their dogs without a care in the world. Squirrels did there normal acrobatics in the trees, and I parked into the parking lot. My car stopped and I opened the door, staring into the depths of the forest. I slammed the car door and sprinted into the woods, running through the trees and sitting kneeling down in the middle of a gravel pathway. 

I set each candle down in order. A cold wind blew. I watched leaves fly into the air gracefully. The wind howled on. I moved closer to the small flames, gently blowing them out individually. Smoke lifted into the air, waving around and dissipating. I blew out the final candle, and the wind howled louder. The trees shook and I had to hold the candles down. I quickly stood up and scanned the ground, searching for small twigs.

Finding a stick, I ripped it into two small pieces. I placed them in an X pattern and watched as nothing happened. For minutes on end I sat down in complete silence. I stood back up, contemplating if I should turn around or not. Suddenly, the wind blew quickly, sweeping up the twigs and lifting the candles in the air. Turning around, my eyes widened in hope. A big circular portal opened. In the middle was a small circle of white, and everything else was purple and blues. The candles were almost magnetized toward the portal, getting sucked into it. Leaves and twigs fell victim to the immense power of the portal. Trees shook side to side, entire branches hanging down by small threads. My hair flew up into the air, waving around. I could barely keep my eyes open in the intense wind. A person stepped out, almost identical to me. They had wavy brown hair, just like me. Their eyes were as dark as night and small circles acted like stars. They had ripped cloth as clothing, and their pants were a thin layer of silk. He had sandles that looked like that of the Romans sandles. His clothing looked almost completely different then mine, but his face and even his height were stingingly similar. “Hello, Hunter,” my parallel self proclaimed. “Hello, other Hunter,” I replied. My parallel self moved his hand up in the air, and for some reason that’s what happened to me. “See, we are intertwined. We’re close enough to where if one of us does a movement, the other follows without even actually doing it themselves,” my parallel self explained. The wind roared now. The portal began to dwindle out of existence, and my parallel self and I were left standing in the woods. “I believe you received my informative letter then?” My parallel self questioned. “How else would I have opened the portal?” I chuckled. “Right. Let me tell you what I had not mentioned in the initial letter,” he started. “After opening the portal, the candles and twigs were sucked into it. I didn’t think of this as I was writing the letter. It might be able to open its own portal to our world. Using those candles and twigs, it could create its own portal and cross over to our world. It’s highly unlikely, but if it does happen, humanity could go extinct…”

When Jayla went to get my mail, she got a very odd letter. First of all, it’s address said, ‘from another world.’ “What does that even mean?” She said aloud, making several heads turn. Jayla smiled shyly and just kept walking. She opened the letter, and it read:

Dear Jayla, I understand you may be confused as to why this letter was sent to you. I’m from a world called, Lucien, and right now, we are in grave danger. People from your world contacted our leader, saying that they are going to travel to our world and said that they are going to conquer our land, and make us into slaves. Because you live in the same world as these people, we need your help. Try to decide fast, you are going to need to be trained to fight, which could take some time. They are traveling to our world in two months. They told us to get ourselves prepared. When you decide go to 3rd street, and I will be waiting.

“What!” She shouted, turning even more heads. People gave her dirty looks and tried their best to avoid being close to her. What was she going to do? She made a pros and cons list, and of course her kind side stepped in and decided that she was going to help them. Especially since it was humans going after…whoever they were. So she walked to 3rd street and found a beautiful lady. Once the lady noticed her she smiled and squealed as she ran toward her. “You came!” She said and hugged her tightly. Jayla was so shocked that someone who didn’t actually know her just hugged her. She saw the side of the lady’s face and noticed that her ears were pointed. She was an elf. Jayla found out that the lady’s name was Delly, and that in her world they only had first names. Delly took her to her world and trained her how to fight. When to two months were up, they went to war, and won! Jayla and Delly stayed in contact and stayed close friends.

The crisp envelope slid through my mail slot, an ordinary event that quickly morphed into the extraordinary. I held it in my hands, its surface marked with an unfamiliar but urgent handwriting. My name and address were scrawled across the front, accompanied by a curious little symbol I had never seen before—a spiral entwined with an arrow, almost as if it were spinning in both directions.

Curiosity piqued, I tore open the envelope and unfolded the letter within. As I read the first line, a chill raced up my spine: "To my parallel self, I hope this letter finds you before it’s too late." The words felt like a jolt of electricity, igniting a blend of disbelief and intrigue.

The letter continued, revealing a world hidden beneath the surface of my own—a world where I had made different choices, lived different lives. My parallel self spoke of a looming danger that threatened not just their existence but mine as well. "They are coming for us," it read. "You must act now if you hope to save both our realities."

Suddenly, the mundane world around me felt fragile, as if I were standing on the edge of a cliff, peering into an abyss that threatened to swallow me whole. The implications of the letter were profound; could there really be another me living a life just an inch away from my own, facing perils that could ripple across our dimensions?

The letter outlined steps I needed to take—find the old oak tree in the park, where a hidden portal would reveal itself at dusk. Underneath its roots lay a way to connect with my parallel self, to directly intervene in the fate that awaited us. As the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, I felt my heart racing with anticipation and fear.

Taking a deep breath, I gathered my coat, stepping into the chill of the evening air, determination coursing through my veins. I'd always considered myself an ordinary person, leading a predictable life, but now I was about to plunge into the unknown to confront the complexities of different realities. Little did I know, fate had woven a tangled web that would test not only my courage but the very essence of who I was.

As I approached the park, shadows danced under the towering trees, and the haunting beauty of the evening wrapped around me like a shroud. The old oak stood proudly, its gnarled branches stretching toward the heavens, while its trunk seemed to whisper secrets of ages past. I felt unsteady, caught between two worlds, but I couldn’t ignore the gravity of what lay ahead.

With each step closer to the ancient tree, my mind spiraled with questions. What dangers awaited me? What kind of life had my parallel self led? And could I truly bridge the gap between our realities to save us both? The air buzzed with a strange energy, and as I laid my hands on the rough bark, I felt a pulse, a heartbeat that resonated with my own.

Suddenly, the ground beneath me began to shift, roots curling and intertwining, forming a luminous vortex swirling with colors that defied description. I took a deep breath, knowing that my life—our lives—depended on the courage I summoned in that moment. With one last glance at my familiar world, I stepped forward into the unknown, where destiny awaited, and adventure was about to unfold.

One evening, I was sorting through my mail when I noticed an odd-looking envelope buried between bills and flyers. Its paper was slightly yellowed, and the edges looked frayed, as though it had traveled a great distance—not just through space, but time. The return address was impossible: “Yourself, Elsewhere”.

My curiosity piqued, I tore it open.

Inside was a single sheet of paper, written in a handwriting that was unmistakably mine. The words were hurried, almost frantic.

Dear Me,

I don’t have much time to explain, but you must listen carefully. I am you, but from a parallel world. Things are different here, but not by much—not until recently. Something has gone terribly wrong. Our world is crumbling, and I fear it’s starting to affect yours.

I need your help, desperately.

It began a few months ago. People here started disappearing—not in a natural way, but vanishing, leaving behind strange distortions. The sky has cracks in it, like glass about to shatter. I tried everything—research, travel, consulting anyone who might have answers—but nothing worked. Then I realized something terrifying: the instability is not limited to my world. It’s creeping toward yours.

I know this sounds insane, but I’ve found a way to send this letter across the dimensional rift. I’m hoping it reaches you before it’s too late.

There’s a doorway between our worlds. I found it. It’s hidden, but not impossible to find—at least, not for you. You’ll need to come here, into my world. I’ve left instructions on the back of this letter. Follow them carefully. Time is running out.

I’m sorry to put this burden on you, but if we don’t stop this, both of our worlds could collapse.

Please, don’t hesitate.

We’re counting on you.

—Me (from Elsewhere)**

I flipped the letter over, and sure enough, there were instructions—strange, cryptic directions that seemed nonsensical at first. They mentioned specific locations around town I was familiar with, but there was a peculiar emphasis on timing and strange rituals. “Stand at the old oak tree by the river at exactly midnight, under a full moon. Place a coin from 1986 in the hollow, and knock three times.”

It sounded like something out of a fantasy novel, but the handwriting, the tone—it was too personal, too me to dismiss as a prank. And something about the urgency gripped me in a way that defied logic. If what this letter said was true, there was a parallel world on the brink of destruction, and somehow, I was the key to saving it.

I decided to follow the instructions.

That night, as the clock approached midnight, I found myself standing beneath the old oak tree by the river. The moon was full, just as the letter had instructed. I pulled out a coin from 1986 that I had scrounged from my drawer and placed it into the hollow in the tree. My heart raced as I knocked three times, each echoing like a drumbeat through the stillness.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then, the air around me shimmered. The space between the trees seemed to stretch and warp, as if reality itself was bending. The sky darkened, and before I could blink, the world around me shifted. The familiar woods were gone, replaced by a landscape that looked… wrong.

The sky above me was fractured, lines like cracks streaking across the heavens. Buildings I recognized from my town were half there, half not—flickering in and out of existence. Shadows moved unnaturally, crawling along the ground as though alive.

And then, I saw someone running toward me. It was me—myself from the letter.

“You’re here,” they gasped, clutching their side, clearly exhausted. “We don’t have much time. The cracks are spreading faster than I thought.”

“What is happening?” I asked, still trying to make sense of the chaos around us.

“This world is… collapsing. The boundaries between realities are breaking down. We’ve angered something, something that shouldn’t have been disturbed. And now, it’s erasing us. Both of our worlds are connected more closely than we realized. If this world goes, yours won’t be far behind.”

“How do we stop it?”

My other self handed me a strange, glowing device. It looked like a compass, but the needle spun wildly, pointing in every direction.

“This will lead you to the source of the rift. You have to find it, and seal it. I would do it myself, but…” They glanced around nervously. “I’ve been marked. It knows I’m here. But you—you still have a chance.”

Before I could ask who or what “it” was, a deep rumble shook the ground beneath our feet. The cracks in the sky widened, and I could hear a low, guttural roar in the distance.

“Go!” my other self urged. “Before it finds you!”

Clutching the strange compass tightly, I ran. The landscape twisted and blurred around me as I followed the erratic needle, dodging the shifting ground and the encroaching darkness. I could feel something pursuing me, a presence just beyond sight—something powerful and malevolent, like the very fabric of this world wanted to consume me.

At last, the compass led me to an old, crumbling building—a place that flickered between being whole and being ruins. Inside, I found the source: a tear in reality, a jagged opening in the air that pulsed with dark energy.

I didn’t know how I knew what to do, but instinctively, I raised the compass, and it began to glow brighter. With a deep breath, I thrust it toward the tear.

There was a blinding flash of light, a deafening roar, and then… silence.

When I opened my eyes, I was back in the woods by the river. The moon was still full, and the world around me was calm and unchanged.

Had it all been real? The letter, the other world, the chase through a collapsing reality? I reached into my pocket and pulled out the strange compass—it was still there, but now, the needle was still.

As I stared at it, I couldn’t help but wonder: had I truly saved both worlds? Or was the danger still lurking, waiting for the next crack to appear?

The wind whispered through the trees, as though the answer was just out of reach.

The only way to describe Charlie Parker was a nerd. Her bedroom was simply a cozy matress surrounded by book shelves. She had a 109.98% in her language arts class, and her lowest grade on her report card was a 98%, but only because she was sick for two weeks and missed an entire project, start and end, in that time. She had sobbed about it for a whole day.

Another strange or possibly nerdy thing about Charlie was how large her imagination was. She loved acting, her favorite genre of book was fantasy, and whenever she finished her current stash of books she could easily think of a new idea and simply create it herself.

So when she had a strange dream, Charlie didn’t think anything of it.

The dream featured her, with her long brown hair and pale complexion wearing strange clothes. She looked like she was in a movie, with a blue T-Shirt and tucked into long black yoga pants. She had archery gloves on her thin hands and arrows and a bow strapped across her back. She had what looked like a leather tool belt across her waist.

She looked like a Fortnite character.

And she didn’t even play Fortnite.

Charlie 2.0 gazed into… Charlie’s eyes? The camera? How are dreams narrated?

“We need help. Check your mail.”

Six words spoken, and the dream disapeared. An easy enough request, so at about 4:30 in the morning, Charlie did just that. The front door creaked, but her mom was a deep sleeper. Usually.

Tiptoeing down the driveway (mostly for dramatic effect, since nobody would hear her anyway), Charlie opened the mailbox very, very slowly.

There was indeed a letter, and it was indeed addressed to her. She tugged the letter open carefully and read the contents.

Hello, Chacharilie. __ _ We request your help. As you know, we’re being attacked by the face of tyranny. We need all forces possible to recover and abolish our tyrannical system. Please call upon your parallel self for guidance._ __ Hurry, _ _ -TTG

Well.

That explained a lot and nothing at all.

As I read the letter addressed to me, from me, I was trying to wrack my memory for when I wrote it. A dear future me letter wasn’t out of the question as I had contemplated it multiple times. I just couldn’t remember ever coming around to writing one, let alone sending it.

I couldn’t deny it was my handwriting, that much I recognised, but it was the words written in that font that I was having a hard time understanding.

But I wasn’t in danger, someone close to us was.

And they wanted to stop it from happening again, in my world.

And not just in my world.

In every world.

I started with my first steps, writing the letter out again, to pass onto the next version of myself…

I’d probably either think this “important letter” is too much work or a hoax.

Because it is a letter and not just an email or text, I’d probably read the message. However, if saving the world required me to buy stamps at a post office and send a letter in return, you could count me out.

The only way I could convince myself it was really me is if I yanked myself into a fitting room at a Walmart or something.

Attempt below

I flip through the mail, scanning for my name. Between bank statements I find a shiny, velvet, black envelope with a white rectangle in the middle, addressed to me. I check the corner to see where it’s from and I’m surprised to see my own name written again in shiny gold, clear as day, along with my own address. I tear it open, assuming the mistake is indicative of spam. I must’ve given my email address to one of those sketchy sites that try to get people to sign up for their credit cards. Nope. Pink and white confetti drop from the baby pink card before I have the chance to open it. The front is blank. I open the card and as I pull the front further to the left, the hair on my head stands straight up as if I had touched a balloon. If that weren’t freaky enough, the words on the pages glow. And there’s a tiny mirror in the card.

Tbc(?)

Dear Parallel Self, I hope this letter finds you well. I am writing to you from a parallel world where danger looms around every corner. Our world is at the brink of destruction, and I fear that we might not survive with out your help.

You see, in our world, a dark force has risen, threatening to engulf us all in it malevolent grasp. Our once peaceful land is now filled with chaos and despair, and our people live in constant fear of what tomorrow may bring.

I know that this may sound impossible to you, but I assure you that it is very real. The only hope we have left lies in the hands of our parallel selves in your world. You posses the power to save us, to stop the darkness from consuming everything we hold dear.

I beg of you, do not ignore this plea for help. We are counting on you to come to our aid, to bring light back to our world and drive away the shadows that threaten to destroy us. Please, find a way to reach us and lend us your strength in our time of need.

I believe in you, parallel self. I believe that you have the courage and determination to make a difference in our world. Please, do not let us down.

 *With hope and gratitude,*
   *Your Parallel Self from a World in Crisis.*

What. The. Fuck?!

Hello! Yes you! I see that you are even more skeptical then I am. Which is a bit strange because I am you. Don’t roll your eyes and don’t put this down. I am you.. or I am the you in a different universe. We are the same, yet different, and yet the same danger seems to befall us. You luckily have not been visited yet; which is good. There is still time to save yourself and the ones you love. Don’t answer that. Don’t telll anyone about this. Ugh, how do I make you (me) believe? We were born on May 15, 2025 in Cedar Rapids Iowa. Our parents met in High School, and we came along shortly after graduation…. Yes, I know, anyone can easily find this information out. I’m just setting the stage… I told you not to answer the door. You can’t trust anyone. It’s only a matter of time till…. The visitor comes and all hope or saving you and your family is lost. Where we as I… oh yes. We are the first born of Betty and Donald West. In my universe we have 3 younger brothers. Yes, I know this is where things are a bit different. In my world Jim doesn’t die. I’m Sorry. I know that was so hard for you. We can discuss that later and if you want I can tell you about my Jim. Your dad works for the power company and you all live on a small farm just outside the city. Ok fine, I’ll get to the part that makes us special that no one knows about except US. We can sense when things are about to happen. We get flashes of images, we get goose bumps and sometimes it feels like we aren’t inside our bodies anymore. Do you remember the first time this happened? We were only 5 years old…