Incinerator

 

Maggie had always been intrigued by the strange incinerator in her aunt Jeana's pottery studio. It looked antique, out of place among the modern tools. Its iron mouth always cool to the touch, no matter how much her aunt had given it to burn.

One rainy afternoon, while cleaning out a junk drawer, she tossed in a broken keychain and some faded birthday cards. Just clutter.

But when she opened the lid to check, the items were gone, and in their place sat a small, glowing note.

“Would you like to get rid of something else?”

Maggie was prepping her aunt's house for sale. It was the only way she could afford to pay Jeana's nursing home expenses. But Maggie lived in a one-room apartment and didn't have space to take any of her aunt's belongings. She started making piles of things she couldn't sell and brought them out to her aunt's studio, burning them in large batches.

Each time she opened the lid, there was another note. Until finally, the house was empty and Maggie was ready to return to what was left of her old life. After burning the last batch, she peeked inside to read the note.

“Would you like to get rid of something more valuable?”

She blinked, heart suddenly thudding. A joke, she thought. A prank, maybe.

Still, her eyes drifted toward her left hand. The ring she wore wasn’t cursed or magical, but it felt heavy. Too heavy. It was the last thing she had of Daniel's.

Her fingers trembled as she placed the engagement ring into the incinerator. No ceremony, no goodbye.

The flame inside whirled to life, unnaturally bright. When she looked again, the ring was gone.

Another note waited.

“What else can I take from you?”

Maggie stepped back. The room felt colder.

The flame flickered, impatient.

And for the first time, Maggie wondered what was left of her to give.

***

320 words. I'm becoming verbose as the month goes on.