by
Kit McIntyre is a quite ordinary seventeen-year-old boy, enjoying the long days of summer, until a visit to his friend—the eccentric writer Philip Amirault—changes his life forever.
All it took was a pair of glasses.
Looking through them opened a gateway into a parallel world, one almost—but not exactly—like the one he left. Transported from his suburban apartment home in the Pacific Northwest to Finn Hill, a village in the forested hills of upstate New York, Kit finds himself immersed in a world that is coming apart a piece at a time. Somehow, his leap through space has brought something else along, something that is threatening to tear apart the fabric of reality.
Together with the charming Malachi Swenson, a boy from the parallel world, Kit has got to repair the damage he inadvertently did, and save as many of the people from Finn Hill as he can. And, along the way, find a way not to lose his blossoming relationship with Malachi—something that is finally giving some color to his previously bland life.
Cover Artists:
Genres:
Tropes: FTL, Parallel Worlds
Word Count: 68,870
Setting: Adirondacks, New York, U.S.A.
Languages Available: English
Tropes: FTL, Parallel Worlds
Word Count: 68,870
Setting: Adirondacks, New York, U.S.A.
Languages Available: English
As he put the glasses on, he was looking at the table, set with two empty teacups, the black box with two more pairs of glasses, and several books. The flat lenses, as he expected, didn’t distort what he saw. It looked just like it did before, only a little smeared and dusty. He looked up, to tell Philip that his magic glasses didn’t work, but stopped mid-sentence.
Philip was gone.
Kit stood up and put out his hand, knocking over his teacup. “Philip?”
All of the sounds, including his own voice, were distant and thin, like an echo from fifty miles away. Kit stared at Philip’s empty chair, and as he watched, the chair began to shift shape, melting. The table sagged in the middle, like it was made of thick syrup, and the cups, books, and the box with the glasses slid down into a hole in the center, stretching and distorting like a Dali painting before slipping into nothing.
READ MORE“Philip!” he screamed, but his voice sounded to him no louder than a whisper.
He heard, or thought he did, a paper-thin hissing, a two-dimensional parody of Philip Amirault’s voice.
“Take them off… take off the glasses… Kit, take them off….” His hands reached up, but he could not see them and they could not find his face.
Or, perhaps, where his face once was, there was now nothing solid.
Then the walls of the apartment began to twist, like water going down a drain. Kit was caught in the spiral, and, in slow motion, he turned and fell over onto his back as the darkness swallowed him up.
COLLAPSE
