Tevun-Krus #48 - StonePunk

Straight Outta Bedrock - A Short Story by @krazydiamond

It was the sensation of crushed fingers that finally roused Jeb from the foggy depths of sleep. He stared at the bloody digits, still pinned between the flat stones that kept clacking his abused fingers atop an odd miniature sundial where his alarm clock once stood. He blinked at the whole scene with less comprehension than a modern American president before he sat up with a jolt, yanking his hand free.

It had happened again. Pain and adrenaline doused him, waking him up surer than a caffeine shot as he took in his room. It was his room, the same, yet vastly different. It always was. The nicotine stained curtains were some giant leaves. The same with his frayed bedspread. There was just enough natural light to make out stone walls where the cheap apartment stucco used to be. Cradling his bleeding hand, Jeb eased out of the bed, wincing at the pulsing pain in his fingers as he used his good hand to pry back the curtain---leaf. He stared hard at the street outside, letting the curtain fall back in place.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he took up the mantra, muttering it under his breath. He needed to get the hell out of here. That meant taking care of the first problem.

Jeb hadn't slept with clothing on since he'd nearly been burnt for witchcraft when he woke up in happy snowman pajamas. Long story. He knew he was in a strange place in his life that sleeping in the nude was the safest option. Now, where did he keep clothes in this reality? A stone chest sat at the end of his bed, covered with a stone slab that proved an immediate challenge as he grunted and strained with one arm to shove it free. Narrowly avoiding adding a foot injury to his situation, he managed to yank the lid off. He sneered at the contents.

"What am I, fucking Fred Flintstone?" He held up a fur garment, trying to figure out how the hell to don it. He prayed it wasn't some complicated clasp he'd have to finagle with one hand, but a small drop of luck was with him. It was a fur dress. Lovely. He hoped global warming wasn't a thing in this reality too, though from the outside view, he'd take a solid guess it wasn't.

He shimmed into the fur dress with a cloud of cusses, gritting his teeth as he shoved his injured hand through the hole. That could prove to be a larger problem than anything else. His glimpse of the outside gave him some serious doubts modern medicine was readily available, though he hoped whatever alternative existed was better than that plague doctor who tried to cure the wart on his elbow with leeches. He still shuddered at the memory. Tugging the fur dress down until it covered his nethers and knees, he carefully made his way through the house, shoving against the stone slab of a door until it opened.

He braced himself against it for a moment, trying to keep his breathing and pulse steady as he took in the scene. The neighborhood was comprised of several low houses, constructed of stone, though the varying color palette was gray, tan and dark red. People walked stone laid avenues, clad in the same appalling fur dresses. Least his fashion sense wouldn't make him stand out. Who knew what reaction the happy snowmen pajamas would warrant here. They'd likely...stone him to death.

The thought caused a hysterical giggle to bubble up, escaping his mouth before he could stop it.

"Oi, Jeb, get your hand caught in the alarm clock again?" He jumped turning to the speaker.

"Oh, hey Frank," he said. There was always a Frank, in every single reality, except his own. It was a detail he'd never quite understood, but he'd given up questioning it. Might as well get things moving, he didn't want to stay in this place any longer than necessary. "Know where I can find Doctor Kneeves this morning?"

Frank raised a brow, folding his massive arms. "You alright there, Jeb? You look a little peeky this morning. And shouldn't you get that looked at before you go chasing after the mad Doc?"