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.