Sarah retrieved the lamp and twisted the peg. The outhouse door swung open on its own, and she gasped.

     “Momma?” Sarah asked as she held out her lantern.

     No. A ruined version of Molly stood in the doorway. Before her disappearance, people often commented on the sixteen-year-old’s beauty, but in the last twenty-eight days birds pecked out her pretty blue eyes, and her eye sockets now swam with maggots. Molly’s head hung at an odd angle to the left. Her skin looked mottled with patches of gray, blue, and black. A beetle crawled out of Molly’s half-opened mouth and darted back in.

     Sarah’s heart leaped to her throat, and she jumped back. She lost her footing, fell onto the outhouse seat, and dropped the lantern to the floor. She bent to retrieve it, thankful the glass globe did not break. Sarah looked up and saw an empty doorway.

Impossible, she told herself. Must’ve dozed off, had a nightmare, and woke up when I dropped the lamp.

     Her heart still pounded in her chest, and Sarah took  a deep breath to calm herself.

     Holding the lamp before her once more, she crept out…