Maggie shivered in her dead mother’s nightgown, as the wind hurled branches at the roof, and dust tornadoes formed here and there on the attic floor. She stared into the locket, squinting at the Maudlin sisters- their smug faces and thin lips; the dumb noses which sat upon their faces like blind slugs.
The Maudlin girls… would have been 86 this year.
Had Maggie’s mother not murdered and buried them here.
Maggie closed the locket and went behind the house with a shovel. The Maudlin sisters shrieked from inside, crying for justice.
The ground below Maggie’s feet started to rumble.
-originally publ. on 100wordstory.org