Erase. Short Story.

He took a sip of the liquid in his glass, it was dark black. He smiled, his teeth and gums were stained the same deep black. He took a deep breath, then released it slowly, his breath felt thick and heavy. His swirled the liquid in his glass, then quickly drained it. He placed the glass down on the table, he had things to think about. The inside of the glass slowly started to bubble and hiss. Over the course of twenty minutes, the glass slowly melted, leaving behind a puddle of liquid glass. He’d pour the melted glass down the drain in a few moments, when he was done thinking. It wouldn’t affect the pipes, the liquid was cool. He enjoyed his drink, but having to replace the glasses so often was annoying. The same thing happened with every receptacle used to store it, once the liquid was gone, the container would melt.

He stood and brought the remains of the glass with him. He’d need to eat soon, though he wasn’t sure what he wanted. He looked in the fridge, but it all looked a little old, he wanted something new, fresh. Maybe he’d go to the market, though that was always a hassle. It moved around constantly to avoid getting on the wrong side of the law and you had to apply for access each time. It was an arduous, though necessary problem. He knew he’d probably just go to the restaurant. It was also a hassle to get to, but once there he’d have food sooner than if he bought it himself. He’d also save himself the time it would take to cook. Besides that he was in the mood for something fancy and he couldn’t be bothered spending a lot of time cooking. He picked up the phone and dialled the number, after a few seconds, he entered the code, an automated voice came on, telling him where to go and the new set of passwords, along with the menu. Once you entered the restaurant you had to give them your order within four minutes or you would have to leave. They couldn’t abide time wasters. He set about gathering his things when the doorbell rang. He paused, listening. He wasn’t expecting anyone. He didn’t have unexpected visitors. He went to the door and looked through the keyhole, he sighed. Of course. It must have been time. He wasn’t supposed to be here that long, none of them were. Short assignments prevented them from getting attached, which would stop them from doing their jobs. His time was up. He looked around the house, there was nothing here he needed or wanted. He opened the front door, smiling. It would be good to go home.

The blade slid into his chest with ease, the blade felt cold. He couldn’t move, shock freezing him in place. He could feel it, tearing him apart at the seams. He wasn’t going home. The blade melted through him as his body began to disappear, soon he would cease to exist. The harshest and least used of all punishments. It was too dangerous to use without long and careful consideration. It would remove him from every point of existence, outcomes of events would change. The blade clattered to the floor, he was gone. One of the people outside picked up the blade, unsure of who they used it on. It didn’t matter who ever it was they were a threat and a dangerous one. They were doing their duty. It was good that he was gone.

 

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About Alan James Keogh

I am a 26 year old writer who somehow tricked U.C.D. into giving me not only a degree in English and Classical studies, but an Hons Masters in Creative Writing too. Visit my blog where I post short stories twice a week (Monday and Wednesday) and an installment of a serialised novel on Fridays. I did consider writing this in the third person, as though it was written by someone else, but Alan is not comfortable writing in the third person as it seems kinda creepy and unbalanced so Alan decided it was probably best to write in the first person. He hopes it went well for him.
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