Dust Devils

Cover Dust Devils
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Genres: Fiction
Then he fired up the blowtorch that snaked away from a rusted red gas cylinder and applied the blue flame to the head, until the wool burned away and the eyes popped and bubbled.
Inja sat on an old car seat, drinking a brandy and Coke, letting the smell of burning flesh fill his nostrils. He was in the shackland that spread like a disease beside the freeway between Cape Town and the airport. Sitting in the yard of a house thrown together from pieces of rusted corrugated iron and bits of wood. A
... one room hovel identical to the others that sprawled out into the darkness.
The yard was lit by the cooking fires and the electric bulb that drew pirate power from a cable patched into the nearby utility pole. A shiny new TV sat on top of a ten gallon drum, blaring out a soccer match. Drunken men crowded around it, hurling abuse at another bad South African team performance.
Inja watched as a crone slid the sheep's head from the fence pole and threw it onto an open fire. She stabbed another head, already cooked, with a sharpened spike and lifted it out of the flames.
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