What if alien creatures could not only snatch you out of space, but also time, so you ceased to have ever existed?
Walking over to me, Pastor Ian said quietly: “Once again the helpers outnumber the congregation.” Although until the erasers had arrived this had not been the case for more than two years. But I knew better than to say that to Ian Wong.
I did my best to smile at his attempted levity, but thinking of the forty or fifty parishioners, good Christian men, women, and even children who had filled the church pew just over a month ago, the smile turned to a lopsided sneer. Once the church had rung with the happy laughter of children running around playing, even during services – unless they became too rowdy and had to be gathered up by gently chastising mothers or fathers – but now all the children were gone. Taken from history without ever having the chance to grow up. Along with most of their parents.
Grieving for all these lost innocents — the way Isabella Rodriguez would be grieving for her own lost innocents, if only she could recall the two sweet girls, Manuela and Conchita, who had been snatched from the fabric of time itself by the evil erasers – I felt like Atlas from Greek mythology, with the weight of the whole world on my shoulders.
“I’m sorry you’re still working both sound and lighting consuls after three years,” said Pastor Ian. “I know it’s hard on you week after week. I had hoped as the congregation built up to find someone you give you a hand and even relieve you some weeks. But unfortunately after three years the congregation never has built up.”
I dearly wanted to tell him how the congregation had built up, to around fifty people just five or six weeks ago. Until the erasers had come along and started to eradicate them. But not wanting to be thought completely mad, I wisely kept my mouth shut.
Pointing to one of the now three people seated together on the back pew, Ian Wong said: “I have been talking to Daniel about it over the last couple of weeks. He’s been attending for over a year now.
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