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doors on them.
    I opened one. On the top shelf, an old mouse nest welcomed me. From out of the blue, a sudden thought struck me. I raced back to the room I’d slept in. I went to the stack of beer cans in the corner and picked up the first one. It was aluminum with a pop top. I turned it so I could read the bottling inscription. I located the brew date and read it in bright silver print; 1984.
    I sniffed the interior of the beer can and could still detect a faint odor. It was still shiny on the outside—so it had to be recent. The year I was stuck in had to be either nineteen eighty-four or five. From what I gleaned from being outside yesterday, albeit in a delusionary haze, it felt like it was nearly the same time of year—just as it was in my time. I still didn’t S 30 S
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    know the exact date. It would only be a matter of asking someone, or making my way into town to find a newspaper to get the current date. Then I would get an exact fix on the “when”
    of my predicament. I tossed the can into the stack, knocking the others over. I smiled as they clanked and clattered to the floor, rolling in multiple directions. It was a small start.
    I sat down in the chair, and now that I could see it in full light, it wasn’t in bad of shape at all. It had a God-awful color scheme and pattern to it. No wonder it found itself relegated to spend retirement here. I racked my brain trying to remember back to nineteen eighty-four…where had I been? Tami and I would have been married for five years, the first of June.
    Samantha would be shy of two, her second birthday happening in October. We were all living in a small ranch style house in northern Cedar Falls, on Tremont Street. My parents lived on the southwest side of town. It was the same house I’d grown up in with my older sister. It hit me! In my “real” time, today is May twenty-third. It’s my birthday—my fiftieth birthday!
    My father was born in nineteen thirty so he’d be…fifty-four and only four years older than I was now. In this time, Mom would be five years younger than dad, so she’s forty-nine. I’m older than my mom—a completely eerie and unpleasant feeling. I couldn’t help myself. I pulled out my phone and looked into the blackened screen. It was the best mirror I had access to. I looked fifty…so much for loosing years and becoming younger on the way back in time.
    There was so much clutter running around inside my head.
    I comprehended the situation I was in, just not the reality of it. I made my way back to the area where my personal hell began—the place where two times converged. There would be
    nothing to see, of that I was entirely sure. I went anyway. The grass was wet with dew and the bottoms of my pants and shoes were soaked instantly. I began to feel the morning chill work S 31 S
    Brian L. MacLearn
    its way through my inner core. It may have started out because of the dampness, but in seeing the spot of “no return” the chill thoroughly enclosed itself around my psyche.
    I was left with no alternatives. I needed help! The only viable short term solution and the only place to turn to were my parents. I retraced my steps. Instead of turning towards the house, I began an uncertain and shaky walk down the grass and weed-covered lane. At the end of the lane I turned to the east and stood facing the rising sun. I took a deep breath and began walking the three miles to the main highway.
    As I walked, multiple scenarios of “what” and “why” ran
    through my mind. Each what and why left me with more questions than answers. Foremost in every uncertain possibility I postulated was the real notion that I would be stuck in this time forever. I was not a quantum physics professor and until today, time travel was merely a notion of fantasy novels. It might be entirely possible that another electrical storm could create a similar wormhole, but when…and would it even be in the same place. Worse yet; would it even be a route back to