Smell

The smell. It was miles from his family's house, where they were burning, but he could still smell it. Hell, when he squinted through his thick glasses he could even see the red along the horizon, below the smoke, where they were burning all those bodies.

He'd wanted to go. Practically begged mother to let him go, ride his bike down that way to see the giant fire pit. To watch human flesh go up in flames. She'd sworn a few times, both cursed and begged the Lord and sent him to his room. Downstairs he could hear her, still mumbling, still frustrated, blocking the windows and doors that had managed to keep most of winter's chill out but still let that smell in. It was in the very air he breathed, just as the smoke cloud rose up against the sky.