It was a great day, the day they finally delivered Boat Town’s Goddess. The box was tiny and painted a cool white. Susan watched as she was carried from the liner to the hall, then followed her inside, closing the big wooden door behind her. One of the men tipped his hat to her as they both left, leaving her alone with the box.
“So” she said, surveying the box “You’re to be me when I’m gone?” She didn’t really expect a reply; it was only a pillbox, after all. With a little sigh, Susan began to strip, pulling her cotton dress over her head and neatly stepping out of her underwear. She left them in a neat pile by the box, then paused for a moment, surveying it. She was glad nobody else was here; she was afraid, and she shouldn’t be. It was a scary thing, giving oneself up to become a goddess.
She sat, cross-legged, the box in front of her, and hesitated, just for a moment, then opened it. Inside was a single white pill, coated, she noticed with a strange sense of irony, in sugar. She picked it up, her hand shaking, then popped it into her mouth and swallowed. And that was the end of her; in approximately one minute from the swallowing of that pill, Susan ceased to exist, and all that was left was the Goddess.
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