Eidola Project

It was almost a month after Molly’s disappearance when a full bladder forced Sarah Bradbury awake in the middle of the night. Try as she might, she could not return to sleep. There was no denying the inevitable— she had to pee. Sarah groaned, pushed away the ratty quilt, and sat up. She wished her father would allow her a chamber pot, but she’d spilled one once, four years ago, when she was five, and that was the end of that. It was pitch-dark in her room, so she fumbled around on the small table next to her for a lucifer.

Sarah located one and struck it on the rough surface of the unpainted tabletop. Sulfur filled her nostrils and she sneezed, almost dropping the burning matchstick. After lighting the wick in the old metal lamp on the bedside table, she shook the lucifer to extinguish its flame, then raised the little metal arm on the kerosene lamp, which caused a small glass globe to lower over the burning wick. The lamp provided a faint light, but it was enough to find her way. She pushed her red hair back from her narrow face and stood.

Easing open the bedroom door, Sarah made her way down the hall past her parents’ room, hoping beyond all measure she hadn’t woken them. She tiptoed into the wider area of the house that served as kitchen, eating area, living room, and entryway. She lifted the metal latch on the door with the greatest of care and crept outside. The boards of the front porch felt damp from the dew, as did the dirt and grass on the well-worn trail around their home to the outhouse. The day’s overcast sky had been rent apart, as though some celestial demon had raked its claws first one way across the heavens, then the other, revealing patches of stars. For a moment the full moon appeared, then scuttled behind a cloud, causing its outer edge to glow.

Sarah pulled open the wooden door of the outhouse and held the lamp before her, peering within. Empty. One night a raccoon had found its way in there, and they both had a fright until the critter had scampered out. Sarah was not interested in renewing the acquaintance.

She climbed inside, pulled the door shut, and twisted the peg that held the door closed. Sarah put the lamp on the floor, hiked up her nightshirt, and sat on the seat—a plank with a hole in it. A pile of newspapers sat next to her, and after relieving herself, she tore off a piece of one sheet to wipe herself dry.

Sarah retrieved the lamp and twisted the peg. The door swung open on its own, and Sarah gasped. A figure stood outside the outhouse door.

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

No. It was Molly, or what was left of her. She had been an attractive sixteen-year-old, but birds had pecked out her pretty blue eyes, and her skin was alive with maggots. Molly’s head hung at an odd angle to the left. What Sarah could see of 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.