The man came to and opened his eyes, immediately shielding them against the bright sunlight.

            He raised his head and it swam, so he lay back down until he was sure he wasn’t going to throw up. He was lying under an old bony tree. A crooked and leafless thing that reared up out of the ground.

            Composed, he stood and looked out over a vast blanket of grass that stretched, unchanging, to the horizon.

He touched his fingertips to his forehead and felt a thin crust of dried blood. Picking absently at it, he walked away from the tree, careful to avoid spiky roots and jagged branches.

He shielded his eyes and looked all around. Seeing no change in the landscape he gave a small shrug and continued on in the same direction. Occasionally he’d stop and look around, all he ever saw was the unchanging green and the old tree.  He kept on walking, and eventually, even that disappeared.

A black dot appeared in the green ahead. As he got closer the dot took the form of a small brick building. Closer still, and a window appeared in the wall that faced him.

He peered through the glass.

Jerking backwards he let out a tiny cry.

Inside the building he’d seen himself. He rubbed his hands over face and looked again. It was him, standing on a wooden table touching the ceiling, studying it intently. The dark hair was a little wilder than he wore it, the skin a little more palid but his bushy eyebrows, his thin pointed nose, even the measles scar by his ear were all in place.

            Suddenly this man, this double looked down at him. He darted away from the window, his heart beating too quickly. He closed his eyes tight and shook his head.

            Looking back through the window he was staring into his own face. His double pressed a hand against the glass. He flinched a little but then slowly lifted his hand and pressed it to the same place.

            The sound came first, a low growl that crawled up the back of his head. As it got louder a white glow appeared around his hand.

            It grew brighter and brighter and the sound louder and louder until his head was filled with nothing but noise and light.

            He lost any ability to mark time and so had no idea how long he was standing there, but eventually the light dissipated and the sound diminished.

            It was different.

He was still staring through the window. He was still looking at himself; but he was inside. He was looking out at the lush green grass and the deep blue sky.

            Outside his double flicked his head around and then turned and ran, slowly getting smaller and smaller until he disappeared altogether.

            A strong smell of polished wood filled the room but the air felt stale in his throat. The room was basic. Red brick walls, a table, a chair, the window in one wall. There was no door.

            He walked around edge of the room, running his hands all over the walls. He picked up the chair and hurled it the window but it bounced off with nothing more than a dull thud.

            He righted the chair and sat down.

            After a few minutes, he banged his foot on the wooden floorboards. The same dull thud as the window. He paced around the room, occasionally stamping his foot, banging the wall. Every time, the same dull thud.

Finally, he sat back down again. For long minutes he remained still, occasionally twitching his head in different directions.

            He raged, banging his fists on the table and shouting and screaming, kicking the chair, hammering the wall. Dancing round the room, fists and feet flailing at anything solid.

            When he exhausted himself, he sat back down; his throat sore; his fists bruising.

            After a long time, perhaps hours, he started to pace slowly around the room. He ran his hands carefully across the brickwork. Occasionally he’d stop to examine a particular spot.

            Finished with the walls, he stood on the table and ran his hands methodically over the ceiling.

            The table was pushed into the far corner and he was examining a dent in the ceiling when he suddenly stopped and cocked his head to the window. His double had returned. He saw him for a flash before he disappeared from view. He jumped down in front of the window and waited

            His double reappeared and for the second time that day he was looking through the window at himself. Remembering what happened earlier he pressed his hand to the window. Outside his double did the same

            The sound and light appeared again, overwhelming him, blocking out everything. When it diminished he found himself outside the window looking in.

            He let out a long shaky breath of relief and fled. He ran as fast as he could. His lungs began to burn, his bruised hands throbbed.

            The bent old tree appeared on the horizon and he ran towards it, relieved when he turned and saw the building had disappeared behind him.

            He sat down against the trunk to rest. When his breathing and heartbeat felt nearer normal, he stood. But he did so carelessly and cracked his head against a heavy skeletal branch slung lower than he’d realised.

            Sinking to his knees, his vision blurred and his head filled with cotton wool.

            He passed out in the bright sunshine.