Saviour. Short Story.

Jane sighed and took another swig from the bottle, it was only one and she was already three bottles in, no one would care though, why would they? She took another swig. She’d have to start thinking about eating something for breakfast soon, she’d already been up for about two hours. She looked down at herself, her arms once corded with muscle were soft and flabby, her stomach bulged outwards. She used to be thin and lithe. She may not have been beautiful but she was at the very least pretty, but that had been a long time ago now. Now she didn’t bother with that stuff. Her hair was greasy and pulled back into a pony tail, her skin was red and inflamed, spots dotted across it. She belched, drained the bottle, then went to order food. Pizza sounded good.

 

She looked out at the beautiful views as she waited, the pool, still crystal clear and inviting sat empty of people as it always did. She remembered the day it was built, how excited she was that she could go swimming any time she wanted. It had been years since she’d gotten into the damn thing. The cleaners still kept it clean though. They should just drain it. The doorbell rang, echoing around the marble floors and walls. She stood and started to move towards it, the pizza guy would be gone by the time she got there, so that was something at least. As she suspected the pizza was already sitting in the tray. She grabbed the box and carried it back to the kitchen. How long had it been since she’d interacted with people? Actual people, not the ones that were employed for her? Months at least. Maybe even a year or two. She dumped the box onto the table, then started to eat.

 

Once she was done she grabbed a few snacks and went into the sitting room, there she collapsed onto the couch and started to watch TV. She had been on TV once. So important, so popular. Now on one loved her, no one cared. Well, at least she was set for life, that was a guarantee, no way would they throw her out onto the streets. She was beloved by the world, hell, if it weren’t for her everyone would be dead. She crammed a handful of chips into her mouth, chewing methodically and washing it down with another swig from the bottle. She had been important once, the most important person in all of human history. Now though, now she was a nobody. It’d been ten years since her last speaking gig. She was sick of it all, the signing shit, the inspirational talks. She wanted to scream at the all, rant and rave, but she didn’t. She kept herself controlled until she knew she wouldn’t be able to contain herself, then she did the only thing she could think of, she locked herself away from the world and soon, the world forgot about her. It hadn’t taken them long to move onto someone else, some starlet who was caught huffing paint or something. The memory was fuzzy. Maybe she was blowing a director. It was something like that and before you could blink, she was over and no one really cared. Sure she still got fan mail, but she didn’t read it. It all went to a warehouse somewhere, there workers would open the letters, scan for a return address and send a “signed” photo, maybe even a standard letter too if the story was particularly sappy. Then, once that was done, they were incinerated. Well, most of them, the gifts and cash were sent to her of course. She emptied the bottle then looked at it, the beer was good, but it wasn’t that good. She had been trying to cut back a little, but maybe something stronger wouldn’t hurt. She got up from the couch and went directly to the cabinet, there Jane got a bottle of vodka, she took a quick swig, then looked around furtively. Last time someone had seen her doing that she had to read some bullshit book about addictions or something. She carried the bottle back into the kitchen and there she grabbed a glass, some ice and a mixer. Then, she filled the glass, adding a dash of mixer to disguise the amount of vodka, she took a sip and smiled, then, she returned to the living room. It was clean, of course it was, that’s what the people were paid for, they cleaned up after her, it was great really. She looked around the room, there were none of the personal touches her places before had had. It looked more like a showroom than someone’s actual house. She took a large mouthful and swallowed. It had been the worse mistake she’d ever made, saving the world.

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About Alan James Keogh

I am a 24 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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One Response to Saviour. Short Story.

  1. your writing is wonderful! really enjoyed it, keep going xxx

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