What if alien creatures could not only snatch you out of space, but also time, so you ceased to have ever existed?
EXTRACTS FROM THE DIARY OF PHILIP JOSEPHS
Saturday, 14th January 2012
I don’t know what the erasers are? Where they come from? Or even how they devour their prey? If indeed, that’s even what they do. But perhaps I’m getting ahead of myself.
My name is Phil. Phil Josephs. For the last three years or so I’ve been attending Centre-West Church every Saturday afternoon. Centre-West meets on Saturdays because we lease a Church of Christ building, and C.O.C. holds services all day on Sundays.
By 6.10 PM today, we were seated or standing around in the tearoom after church, having a cuppa and filling our faces with biscuits, jam tarts, some hideously bitter candy canes left over from Christmas, and other goodies.
I was seated with my back to the large window, pressing backwards to ease the excrutiating arthritic pain in my back. Glancing across the brown-wood tables in the centre of the room, I saw Nancey Kwouk standing smiling toward me. Nancey was a tall, attractive women in her late forties or early fifties.
Today she must have been planning to go out after church, since she was wearing a bright blue dress with a plunging neckline, from which her full, melon-shaped breasts did their level best to leap free as she leant across the tables to say something to me.
A frustrated, middle-aged bachelor, who until joining Centre-West three years ago had had no real friends outside my family, I none-the-less tried my best, without much success, to raise my eyes from Nancey’s full, swelling breasts to her pleasant face as she said to me: “Are you going to …?”
Then a beam of sunlight flooded in through the window behind me. Sunlight and something else. Something like a black sheath or burst of black light. If black light is possible.
Streaking across the snack table to the surprise of Mark Jenkins, a thickset, grey-haired man, and a couple of others, the black streak stopped upon the bosomy figure of Nancey Kwouk.
Except that Nancey Kwouk no longer existed. As the eraser (as I have decided to call it) landed up Nancey, the busty brunette faded out of existence.
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