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Laverne lay on a bed of coals, waiting. A charred picture of her ex-husband hung on the brimstone wall. She’d waited 50 years for his soul to join hers in hell, and she was growing impatient. She wanted him to feel the endless, crushing pain she felt. She closed her eyes and concentrated on ripping his soul through space and time into the fiery depths. Dark energy ripped through her being. She found herself in a familiar bedroom. A frail man in bed stirred.
“Who are you?” the old man asked.
“Don’t you remember me, dear? I’ve come to take you home.”
