Elegy In The Retort by John Leahy
A story inspired by the Lamb funeral home scandal in which numerous bodies were cremated at once in order to boost profits quickly. Image generated with OpenAI We are seven. We were not meant to be burned together. Not like this. Not in this oven. Not in this place. Not stacked like refuse. Not shoved in haste, as if death were a shipment, a quota, a monthly target. And yet, here we are: pressed shoulder to jaw, pelvis to ribcage, cheek to calcifying spine. Bodies robbed of the rituals meant to separate us from meat . No solitude. No dignity. Only crowding in fire. And in the fire, something terrible happens: we wake. Gladys Ingert, 82 In life, Gladys was a florist who believed in the small mercies of ritual. Corsages for high school dances. Wreaths for funerals. Tulips, not lilies - those were too funereal for her taste, though she arranged them with grace when clients asked. She believed in soft scents, fine music, and written instructions. Now, Gladys's ribs ...