To begin, I present one of my silly drabbles:

The Trans-Abyss Backhaul

“Whoa! Stop!” it said.

Kris stared at the quivering orb that materialized.

“Thing about multiverses—they need to be connected to the trans-abyss backhaul. Else, suckers can’t spit matter into bangers. We lose visibility on an entire quadrant of space-time. Void wireless only spawns access failures. Endless glitches!”

Kris gestured at the stack of electronics, recently “inherited” from his dad, housed in a faux oak media cabinet. “I just…”

“No!” the orb vibrated. “Don’t touch THAT!”

“But no one even uses VHS—”

“Unplug that and—” The orb popped.

But Kris was done cleaning through grief. YOINK!

One less blinking display.

* * *

This drabble is based on true events. When my family moved into our current house, we inherited a similar stack of electronics, a similar tangle of wires. To this day, we debate about what to do about it (although not with extraterrestrial orbs unfortunately).

I’ve always been pro-unplugging the unsightly mess. Why sustain a tether to a past we had nothing to do with?

But, in the three years we’ve lived here, I’ve only managed to disconnect some of the audio-visual equipment (yes, the VCR for sure). A large bundle of cords remains.

What if unplugging it creates a bigger mess than the one we inherited?

What if starting over is somehow worse?

The stories in FFO’s April 2025 issue are about people left behind to clean up the mess. First is a queen who must end a war in “Practical Knitters” by Louise Hughes. The king is dead after all.

The title of Selphie Ke’s horror flash, “Akane Is Dead,” gets right to the point. Set in a fictionalized 17th century Japan, this story features a courtesan that does the due diligence of honoring her apprentice.

Investigating someone else’s death is one thing, but imagine if you have to cover for your own murder. That’s precisely what Andrew Kozma presents in “You Have Been Murdered.”

Not all messes are as final though, and sometimes the clean-up is in our psyche. In “The Thing About the Castle” by David Hammond, a young boy struggles to fill his empty LEGO castle after his sister has run away.

In “The Loneliness of the Long-Distance Teleporter,” M. J. Pettit shows us what happens when you port through the one place in the universe where teleportation remnants aren’t destroyed. “They keep the junk alive. Some sentimentality about the uniqueness of every life.” Two copies, two lives, two choices.

There will always be people choosing to tear down. In America right now, it feels like cords are getting ripped out of the wall left and right. It feels like lights flickering in a thunderstorm. It feels like a particularly stupid supervillain fight.

Perhaps this is why I’m such a fan of Saul Lemerond’s destructive romp through a Target in “Janet and I Try to Get Frosted Strawberry Pop-Tarts at the Gilbert Rd Super Target. It’s the One in Scottsdale. No, the Other One. The One on Gilbert.”

Let’s hope the only casualty of every fight is a distaste for frozen waffles. Or a pile of LEGO bricks for that matter. Or a burnt pot roast or a bit of drywall to be patched. But who knows what we’re doing to space-time at this moment.

* * *

Ⓒ Rebecca Halsey