```
The glowing red charcoals released high heat, sizzling and spitting sparks.
Above the charcoal fire hung two deformed pieces of bluish-grey meat, emitting a burnt and unpleasant odor.
"Huff, huff—almost ready," she said.
Granny of the Mountain held a stove hook, turning the less-than-appetizing roast in the furnace with interest, her small eyes gleaming brightly.
As she turned them.
Suddenly, Granny of the Mountain's hand loosened.
Clang—
The metallic stove hook fell to the filthy ground, bouncing twice before falling still.
Granny of the Mountain's bloated and fat body, like a puppet with its strings cut, slumped stiffly and did not move.
In the bloody kitchen, only the sound of the fire crackling and popping remained.
Time passed, but it was unclear how much.
The fat on Granny of the Mountain's body suddenly began to tremble.
Plop, plop, plop.
The fat and muscles swelled and then collapsed, quivering as they made the sound of flesh slapping.
