Years ago, my uncle owned a funeral home and I got a summer job, working part-time at a crematorium. It wasn't a lot of fun, but it definitely paid off well and being a poor student, I definitely needed the money. Dealing with dead bodies was very scary at first, but after a few days, you get used to it...
One morning, I was sweeping the floor of the crematorium when a black mare came across the parking lot outside. A man in a black suit came out and my uncle went to talk to him.
After a while, he called me to him and asked him to help him take the coffin to the crematorium. I thought it was strange, because usually they would bring the coffins to the funeral home next door, but I didn't ask the question.
We put the coffin on the ground and my uncle went to prepare the oven for the crematorium. For a few minutes, I was left alone with the man in the black suit. There was a strange silence. I didn't know what to say. I thought it was his relative who had just died and was lying in the coffin, but he didn't seem so upset.
When the oven was ready, my uncle and I picked up the coffin and brought it to a metal bench. We took off from the top of the coffin, I saw that the corpse inside was a man who looked to be about 30 years old. Usually the corpses were very pale, but it looked pink on the face.
My uncle started the fire, then pressed a button to start the conveyor belt. The coffin was slowly moved into the oven. When everything was inside, my uncle closed the door and I just stood there, waiting. It usually took an hour for everything to be burnt to ashes. After that, I have to collect the ashes and place them in an urn, so that they can be given to the family.
My uncle and the man in the black suit went to the funeral home next door. I thought they were filling out all the usual paperwork. I was left alone in the crematorium, so that I could continue to sweep.
After about 10 minutes, I heard a strange sound coming from the oven. It was like a faint knock. At first I thought it was just my imagination, but then it turned into a loud bang. I tried to tell myself that it was just metal fighting the heat.
Collide! Collide! Collide! Collide!
It was the unmistakable voice of someone banging hard on something, desperately trying to get out.
A cold ran down my spine and the brush fell from my hands. I was sure that the man inside was still alive. Frightened, I ran to the funeral home and, trembling uncontrollably, told my uncle what I had heard.
I took them back to the crematorium and asked them to listen.
Collide! Collide! Collide! Collide!
"I don't hear anything," said my uncle.
Collide! Collide! Collide! Collide!
"I neither," said the man in the black suit.
I saw them, shocked and stunned. I also began to doubt my conscience. My uncle and the man in the black suit shrugged their shoulders and headed back to the funeral home. I was just standing in the middle of the crematorium and listening intently.
I had no idea how to open an oven door safely, and even if I did, I was terrified of what I could find. Can anyone survive after 10 or 15 minutes in the furnace?
Gradually, the noise of the bang got weaker and weaker, until it was completely gone. I could only hear the hiss of the flames and the crackling. There wasn't much noise.
An hour later, my uncle came back to turn off the oven. Together, we collected the ashes from the bottom tray and put them in an urn. The man took off and with a wide smile on his face, he sat back in his car and left.
At closing, my uncle handed me an envelope full of money and told me not to mention what I heard to anyone. We never talked about it again and business went on as usual.
Even today, I still have nightmares about that awful banging sound I heard from inside the oven.
