You know by now that I am haunted. You know that I am an Eraser, who removes what has been and may be but should not be.

I do not enjoy my work, not for a long time now. This has been established.

You were with me when the old woman spoke my name.

Why is this important, that my name passed from the lips of a sleeping woman who would soon be gone from the pages of humanity? Well, there is no way you could know, is there?

You have more questions than answers.

This is my choice, but I am weakening in my resolve to withhold my identity from you.

In these past days I have realized that my fate must be pursued rather than waited upon.

Or maybe I should say this is what I have decided or perhaps concluded. I have questions, too.

I need answers.

Presently, it is late at night and there is a maze of busted locks and one disabled alarm system in my wake.

Ellen Hanover never existed, but her mother had, and her sister and three brothers. Ellen had been the oldest. Now, to her surviving siblings, she had never been born, nor her
children or grandchildren.

There would is no record here if Ellen Hanover, of coarse there isn't. But Eileen, Toby,  Troy and Thomas, some of them may still be alive.

"What are you doing?"

That is a loose translation. You may have guessed that English is not my first language.

The voice in my head reverberates in a language long dead. There is no name for it on Earth, for no use of it has ever been found. How it was so effectively erased from history I can only guess. How many like me did it take to wipe it from human memory, all of those obliterated to protect the secret?

"We have a punishment for those who defy thier duty. You are aware that it is very unpleasant."

Toby lives here in town, on the West side.

Troy died in a car crash in 1967.

Thomas was claimed by a heart attack in 1993.

Eileen lives in Lakeland, Florida.

"Your status will be revoked if you persist. You do not want that."

"I don't know what I want, accept for you to shut up." I am sure that was a mistake, but it is too late now anyway. Too late for everything, everyone.

Three people were on my list today. I visited none of them. Their husbands, wives, children and friends are still enjoying their company. This is a severe violation. What I am about to do is far worse.

My quest for death could end more terribly than any fate assigned to you mortals. Oh, how I have envied you so many times. Even to live and love and then forget, that I would prefer to my so-called duty, and a life that never ends.

I do not know what it is to love, kiss, taste fine wine or know a moment that is not
filled with too much knowledge.

The voice has followed me across town. One can seek shelter from the rain, escape the cold, run from wolves, but the voice is always there if it wants to be.

"We have dispatched a Cleaner to take over your list. A Corrector will deal with you."

I know what that means. In their book, my fate is sealed, a fate that no-one has ever evaded. I might be the first, but I cannot rely on such delusions. The time for my quest is limited. Hours, days at best.

Toby's house is dark. In a few minutes I am standing in the family room, looking at a row of pictures on the mantel. Some of them are quite old, and there, look at that, a familiar face! It all comes rushing back to me in a wash.

As if aware of my thoughts, and me having little reason to think otherwise, there is an interruption.

"You are a fool. You have everything."

I struggle to clear my mind.

Most likely it was a likeness, maybe genetic. Probably so. If ever it could be suggested that I had a father, Grandpa Gleason, circa 1872, looked just like him.


A father figure stood over me. I know not who gave me birth, or if I was ever born, but maybe I was, because I do remember being young.

He stood tall and was reprimanding me. I had been talking back to him. I loved the puppy, and was pleased that it existed. I wanted to play with the puppy. I didn’t want to make it go away.

He held the mother in his arms, and lowered her to me. The other pups romped in the grass a few feet behind him. I clung to the one I had bonded with, squeezing it a little too tight to my chest, eyes full of tears.

“Put it down.”

His eyes were like hot coals, full of intensity and determination.

“You know what to do”.

“But... but this isn’t a frog. I love her.”

The puppy squirmed and licked my face. What a wonderful smell. Oh how I loved that puppy. I have never loved like that again.

Suddenly my brother was there. At least I think it may have been my brother. First we was beside me, but I didn’t look at him. I just knew he was there.

Then he was in front of me, a few inches taller, and he laughed.

“You will never be ready. You are weak”

More tears. I choked, almost spoke but didn’t

“It’s your duty. You have to.”

More tears. I was at once defiant, anguished and angry. Would Father protect me?

“Here, let me show you!”

The puppy was torn from my arms, and yelped. Oh no, please no! It was not my mind but my heart that screamed.

Brother ran just far enough away. He placed his hand on the Sheba’s head, not even looking. Instead he watched me with a glint that was filled with taunt and sinister pleasure.

Sheba whimpered, then began to melt. Soon she was a sprinkle of dust falling on bare feet and powdering the grass. I fell on the ground, really sobbing now.

By the time Father knocked Brother to the ground with his fist, I had know idea why. But Brother blamed me, and never forgave. I had forgotten that look, a promise of vengeance.

Over time, we seemed to get along ok, though he teased and taunted me often. Maybe it was a hardening of the heart that protected me, it goes with the job, the training.

Later we were separated for our assigned positions, never to see each other again.


The light went on. I am suddenly aware of the present.

“Hey! You!”

This was definitely not supposed to happen. I am out the door in a moment.

“You’re slipping”

“Shut up!” I hiss under my breath.

A few blocks away I am in an alley, sitting on the back step of some store or warehouse, it doesn’t matter.

The next voice is not in my head, but it is just as familiar, from the shadows twenty feet away.

“I knew you would screw up.”

I run. I can’t remember the last time I ran. The words still echo in my head, I had heard them so many times before, long ago, eons ago. The taunting voice of Brother.