Karma

Her wheelchair ground to a halt far from the pendant alarm her grandson insisted she wears constantly. It would be hours before he returned, and with nothing to do except read her magazine through the large magnifying glass around her neck, she'd fallen asleep.
The sun, streaming through the skylight hit the lens, focusing the beam onto her now smouldering blanket.
As a girl she'd watched, fascinated as her brother cooked trapped insects beneath his own lens.
So it was now, as she sat screaming in her own flames, the only witness to her agonising end; a solitary, fascinated spider.