Hole in One

Mike Delaney was a man of routine. Wake up, microwave coffee, ignore texts from his ex, and roll into his dead-end IT job with five minutes to spare. The only thing he genuinely looked forward to was his weekly mini golf game at “Putt Paradise,” a rundown course behind a bowling alley. It wasn’t much, but he was good at it — freakishly good, even. His buddies said he had “cheated physics.”

It was a Tuesday night, and Mike stood on Hole 13 — the cursed clown mouth. Most players missed the shot a dozen times. Mike never did. As his cheap neon orange ball rolled up the tongue and into the mouth, something strange happened: the sky cracked.

Literally.

A jagged rip opened above him with a thunderous snap, like glass shattering in reverse. The ball never emerged from the other side. Instead, a beam of blue light shot from the clown's mouth and wrapped around Mike like a lasso.

He didn't even have time to scream.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________

Mike landed on soft grass under a swirling teal sky. The air smelled like peppermint and static. In front of him was a vast mini golf course — but on a scale he'd never imagined. Floating platforms. Waterfalls of lava. Windmills powered by lightning. Creatures of various shapes and species lined the greens, all watching a massive scoreboard in the sky.

A woman in a silver cloak approached, her eyes glowing violet. “You are the Chosen Putter,” she said simply.

“I’m the what?”

“The Champion of the Ninth Realm of Puttaria,” she said, as though it were obvious. “Our tournaments shape fate itself. You were summoned through the Hole of Worlds.”

Mike blinked. “This is a prank, right? Did my brother hire actors again?”

The woman ignored him and raised her hand. A sleek black putter appeared in a burst of blue flame. “This is the Stroke of Destiny. It only obeys a worthy champion.”

The putter floated toward Mike and hovered in front of him. Against every logical instinct, he reached out.

The moment his fingers touched the grip, power surged through him. Energy filled his muscles. Symbols glowed faintly on his forearms. His vision sharpened — he could see wind trajectories, surface angles, spin probabilities. The laws of physics whispered in his ear.

He took a shaky breath. “Okay. I’m listening.”

______________________________________________________________________________________________________

Over the next few days, Mike trained under the tutelage of Master Bogeyn, a four-armed mole-being who had once putted a meteor through a black hole.

“Mini golf in Puttaria is not just about precision,” Bogeyn grunted. “It’s about willpower. Control. You must bend reality around your stroke.”

Mike learned to focus his power into his putter. A straight shot could become a boomerang curve. A gentle tap could smash through stone. Each hole was a test — one featured zero gravity, another changed layout mid-game, another was underwater with telepathic sharks that taunted your confidence.

His competitors were just as wild: a fire-wielding salamander prince, a telekinetic jellyfish, a robot programmed only for putting. But Mike had the advantage no one expected — instinct. He didn’t need a reason why the ball went where it did. He just knew it would.

And then came the announcement.

The Grand Tournament: winner gets a wish from the Core of Reality.

“Wish?” Mike asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Anything,” Bogeyn said. “Bring back a world. Erase a regret. Rewrite fate.”

Mike thought about his life. His sister, gone too soon. His failed career. The bridges burned. “I could fix everything,” he murmured.

“If you win,” Bogeyn warned.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________

The tournament took place in the Sky Coliseum, a floating arena above a cosmic storm. Each hole hovered on its own island, suspended in air, water, or pure energy. The crowd roared with every stroke, cheering in languages Mike didn’t understand.

He breezed through the first three rounds. His power adapted quickly, and soon he was hitting trick shots off meteorites and timing ricochets off moving platforms. He felt unstoppable.

But the final round was different.

His opponent: Zal'Quor the Infinite Slice — a being made of living crystal, reigning champion for 9,000 years.

“You are but a blip,” Zal'Quor hissed, its voice like shattering glass. “Return to your broken world.”

Mike stepped up to the tee of the final hole. It was a monster: 800 yards across, with wind zones, magnetic fields, black holes, and a final cup on a floating feather drifting in a storm vortex.

He exhaled.

He closed his eyes.

He saw it — the path, the bounce, the timing. The Stroke of Destiny hummed in his hands.

He swung.

The ball soared — arcing through the air, curving past gravity wells, dodging electric clouds. For a moment, it seemed to falter.

Then the wind caught it.

It landed on the feather.

The crowd fell silent.

And the feather drifted... right into the cup.

Hole in one.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The stadium erupted.

Mike barely noticed. The Core of Reality pulsed before him, a swirling orb of light and memory.

“You have won,” it spoke. “What is your wish?”

Mike hesitated.

He could bring back his sister. Fix every failure. Reset his life.

But he looked down at his hands — glowing with power. He remembered the adrenaline, the laughter, the purpose he felt here.

“No wish,” he said.

The Core pulsed in surprise. “None?”

“I want to stay. I want to build a league. Teach others. Help them find what I found.”

Silence.

Then approval.

“So be it.”

Mike Delaney became a legend in Puttaria. He founded the Interdimensional Mini Golf Federation, trained champions across galaxies, and turned the game into a path of personal growth, not just spectacle.

He never went home.

Because, truthfully, he was home.

And every time he stepped up to a hole, his heart whispered the same thing:

One stroke can change the universe.