The Mind Eraser

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I didn’t expect it. A small silver device sat in the corner, covered by old junk. The label said “Mind Eraser.” It sounded ridiculous, but I needed it. Painful memories weighed me down.

The shopkeeper, old and silent, handed it to me. His smile seemed to know something.

“Use it wisely,” he said, looking at me.

I didn’t understand, but I paid and left.

Later, alone in my apartment, I stared at the device. It felt heavy, almost alive. I pressed the button. At first, nothing happened. Then, a hum filled the air. A screen lit up, showing my face—young, happy.

I hesitated but pressed it again. The worst memory—losing her. I couldn’t bear the pain. The hum filled my head, and everything went black.

When I woke up, the weight was gone. The pain was gone. I felt free. It worked. I smiled, something I hadn’t done in years.

But something was wrong.

The next day, the world felt off. Faces blurred, familiar yet strange. I felt uneasy. What was happening? I pressed the device again.

I erased my father’s yelling. The hum returned. The blackness came. When I opened my eyes, everything felt worse. The faces, wrong. Familiar people, but distorted. I was dizzy.

The memories didn’t vanish. They leaked into my reality. I heard whispers, saw flashes—twisted images from my past. The faces followed me.

I erased more. Each time, it got worse. The room felt smaller. Shadows grew longer. And then, I saw her again—the woman. But she was wrong. Her face twisted, her mouth moved, but no sound came.

“You don’t remember me?” she asked.

I shook my head, but she was there, real, but not the woman I loved.

I turned away, but the shadows followed. The erased memories returned—wrong, twisted. They wanted something from me, something I couldn’t give.

I pressed the button again. The hum was louder now, stronger. The pressure in my chest grew. I couldn’t escape. The memories didn’t go away. They were alive, crawling back into my mind.

The device worked, but not as I thought. I erased my past, but the memories didn’t vanish. They returned, stronger, darker. I couldn’t stop them. I couldn’t escape.

Each press of the button took more. More of myself. The past was consuming me.

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