SCARE: An infestation

ACTION: Missing a deadline

CHARACTER: A single mother

Four nights in a row, I am woken just as the tendrils of sleep entwine me. My daughter won’t stay in her room, nor will she humor me by pretending to sleep herself. As I require use of my full mind to function, I’ve sought help from the witch down the street, followed by the air of desperation. Although she does not trust unmarried women, she allowed me to clip a leaf from her tree of indeterminate origin, which I slip into my daughter’s tea.

“Here you are, dear,” I say. “Drink up.” And let mommy get some rest.

A book, as nondescript as the leaf, will activate the magic in the tea. The pages crack, brittle with age. Dust puffs our faces, prompting a soft cough from the little body under my arm. It’s a simple bedtime story, or several, and she must listen without interruption for the spell to take root. A rule of utmost importance, according to the spellcaster herself.

Page one: “The ants go marching two by two, hoorah!” My little girl yawns and stretches, rustling stiff sheets against the skin of my leg. I shift my weight to relieve the tickle.

Page two: “The itsy, bitsy spider climbed up the waterspout.” I let her trace the humps of a gangly, gray spider before I turn the page. Cobwebs, thus far unnoticed, sigh in the corners of the room. I suppose upkeep has fallen behind in my sleep-starved state.

Page three: “There was an old lady who swallowed a fly.” A lump forms in my throat. I clear it away as my daughter yawns a second time. I give her shoulders a pressing shake. Two pages to go, and she must stay awake to the end.

Page four: “Three blind mice. See how they run!” Tiny feet scuttle across the unswept floor, but I can’t move to trap them because her eyes droop and close. One page left, my sweet.

Final page: “Goodnight. Don’t let the bedbugs—”

The mattress rumbles beneath our bodies. Tiny mouths bite at my ankles, pain like pinpricks, moving up and around and over. A swarm ensnares the mass that was my daughter, and I am not permitted to read the final word.