A Breath of Fresh Hell

She had thrown the damn letter in the trash twice, yet she would still find it on her porch the next morning. The third time she actually stuffed it into the can and watched the garbage collector dump the contents into his massive truck, with a smile she pulled her can back to the side of her house, the wind blew the lid back and there it was, stuck to the bottom.

She took the hateful thing inside and reread the contents. It was just the obituary in the Nebraska newspaper that her cousins had sent her. Were they really so oblivious to the fact that after all of these years she still hated her mother? Did they really believe that she would attend the funeral? While she had been dreaming of this day for years, she respected her cousins enough not to attend, as her only reason for doing so would be to dance on that bitch’s grave and sing the song “Ding Dong the Witch is Dead” from The Wizard of Oz.

She had the song memorized for over twenty years now, yet today she realized that she no longer even cared. As she set the obituary and the envelope to burn she said “See you in Hell Mother. You’d better find a good hiding place because when I get there the fun starts. For me, anyway.”

The smoke from the paper drifted out the window and disappeared into the twilight, it fluttered through the air of open wounds and debts unsettled, finding it’s way to the place where Vengence is God.

Somewhere in Hell a woman began to scream, a scream that would stretch to eternity.



(trash, twice) Weds..


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