Heat rose up in Carlene’s chest. “Go away!” she spat.

    The faces darkened. One of them, a boy with vampire teeth, whispered, “As you like, ma’am!” and the faces vanished instantaneously.

    Carlene flopped onto the bed. She squeezed her eyes shut.

    …A man was advancing toward her. White reflective blades tore pale, blood-stained sheets apart. Where was the baby?

    Carlene couldn’t catch her breath. She hurtled herself at the cradle. The baby was missing.

    Carlene groped around the bed frantically. She looked to the right. There was no window. She slid off the bed and stood barefoot. Outside the room it was dark and she could barely see. She tiptoed down the stairs.

    “Mrs. Hutchinson?” Carlene called out. No response. She stood still and listened. A distant wail made her hair stand on end, and she instantly realized where it came from.

    Carlene pulled open the curtains with trembling fingers. Behind them were four wooden boards. There was no window. She dug out the loose screws and the boards fell to ashes as they hit the floor, revealing a portrait behind them. A newborn baby in the portrait looked solemn and faded. He had blotches and swollen eyelids.

    She could hear the wailing again, louder and more heartrending than before. The baby’s half-parted lips seemed to call for help. Carlene yanked at the frame. Behind the portrait was a window leading to a lightless chamber. The wailing ceased. She started to climb. Her shoulder nudged a switch as she tumbled in the darkness. Light illuminated 16 floating bodies in pale, yellowish jars of formaldehyde. All were babies.

    Carlene flung herself at the jars. Her eyelids quivered as her eyes darted back and forth. She examined each translucent, elastic body with care. Each looked so serene in death, just like her baby in his sleep. But no, she decided, sighing in relief; he wasn’t among them…

    The house had turned silent again. Keys jingled in the distance. Carlene was back in the parlor when Mrs. Hutchinson walked in. She fixed her eyes on Carlene with a long, measuring look.

    “Go to sleep,” she ordered.

    Carlene awoke feeling watched. Looking up she saw the familiar old, censoring eyes.

    “Have you seen, over there…a window with…” Mrs. Hutchinson’s lips quivered.

    Carlene looked to the right. The window was there again, wide open and framing a blood red moon.

    “Well?” demanded Mrs. Hutchinson. She shook Carlene by the shoulders. “Did you?”

    Carlene nodded.

    Mrs. Hutchinson covered her face with two hands.

    A knock came from the window. The pale face of the pretty girl with pigtails popped up, then the red face of a man. The window became crowded with faces.

    “It’s Halloween, madams!” shrilled a little boy with scars and dabbed with red paint. “As custom goes - trick or treat!”

    “What do you want?” asked Mrs. Hutchinson.

    “Carlene,” chanted a woman in a black mask. “We want Carlene.”

    But Carlene was no longer paying attention to their words. She saw in the far corner of the window a small, turbid face with blotches and sewn eyelids. The pale indigo face entered the room along with the others.

    Carlene slumped back. Through bleary eyes, she saw Mrs. Hutchinson taking out a knife.