Mark Heathcliff

A quiet night had fallen over Mandela's small town, and the curfew was long past, leaving the entire town in a deafening silence. Only occasionally did police cars pass by, patrolling the streets.

A young man named Mark was sitting in his room, reading a prayer before going to bed. Saying a final “Amen,” he closed the Bible and placed it on the table, and then headed towards the bed. Climbing under the blanket and wrapping himself tightly, he sighed quietly and closed his eyes, preparing to fall asleep, but a sharp sound nearby made him suddenly open his eyes and almost fall out of bed in surprise. He... Saw an Alternate... But not huge, but the size of his palm. “God forbid...” he exhaled convulsively, putting his hand to his heart and not taking his eyes off the creature, breathing heavily and deeply.