Author: Susan A. Anthony

The poorly fitting standard builder issue door had a gap under it, all the better to let things escape. Inside, a small white washing machine drained into a hole in the concrete, shielded with a perforated plastic vent, to keep things out, she imagined, not to stop things dropping down. Opposite the washer, a grey hot water tank, dates scribbled on the side, thirty-five years in the past, white frosting around its base, a pool of water beneath.

Beyond the washer, aluminium duct work, vents, grates and baffles and to the side of this maze of plumbing, not quite flush with the floor, a pale pink panel, slightly askew, from which noises emanated that froze her blood. Each fading scream punctuated by the tick tock of a clock like whatever was beneath the panel was regulated by a timepiece from the depths of hell.

Sian edged towards the panel, the sound growing, each scream making her body lift off the ground.
She nudged the panel aside.

The sump pump was suspended in mid-air, beneath it a swirling vortex of clouds, and lightning flashes, and a girl clinging to the power cable for the sump pump, the face familiar, it was herself. The door to the utility room slammed shut behind her and she felt herself tipping into the abyss, grabbing the cable for the sump pump as she fell. A mouse carrying an elaborate stop watch scampered over her, leapt on to the washing machine, just in time to notice her foot disappear.

The mouse jumped down, and slid the panel back over the hole. Hiding behind the water heater, the mouse reset the watch, and waited for the footsteps approaching to open the door, in she came. Rinse. Repeat. Rinse…

The door blew open, Sian. Her body was a tangle of harnesses and ropes tying her to the banister rail behind her.

“You think you’re going to get me with that infinite universes crap again. I’ve been watching you on the holo, you little turd. Think of this as Schrodinger’s Cat only I’m not dead. I’m not hanging off our sump pump cable and you’re not sucking me into oblivion anymore today. I have chores to finish before mum gets home and I’ve had enough of your school science project, Stephen. Hand over the watch.”

The mouse shimmered and her brother appeared from behind his cloaking device storming past her up the stairs and throwing the device at her as he passed.

“Screw you!” he shouted.

Sian inched towards the pink cover in the floor and reached in to grab her leg, pulling each instance back until she was alone.

She knelt down, exhausted. Her brother’s time travel gizmo behind her. A creak of the stairs and as she turned she saw her brother sawing at her harness.

“You bag of faeces,” she hollered and grabbed the cord of the sump pump just in case.