Incinerator

Al Graham


She stood and watched lifelessly as the flames crackled and licked their way to the top and through the flue. The garden was flooded in darkness, the only light was the orange glow that beamed from the air holes. The heat was intense. She found the smell oddly familiar, similar to that barbecue smell normally in the air on a summers night.

She decided to wait and watch a little longer as her husbands dismembered body burned away to ash in his own incinerator, in his own garden.

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