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There was something not-quite-right about the new babysitter, Spotty thought to himself. From the sidelong glance from his sister Dotty, he knew she’d sensed it too. Maybe it was the way the tall young woman stared at them with glazed, unblinking eyes. Or maybe it was her strange dress, tattered and faded and smelling of patchouli. Perhaps it was the funny cigarette she started smoking as soon as Mom and Dad were gone.

But whatever the reason, Dotty didn’t like it and she slipped away to her safe place, leaving Spotty alone with the visitor. “It’s always the same. They always run,” said the babysitter. “But you like me, don’t you?” she said, leering at Spotty, “and so I’m going to make you a special treat.”

Spotty went out to the back porch as the strange woman busied herself in the kitchen. There was no point in trying to comfort Dotty, for he knew she preferred to be alone when she was spooked. In a little while, she would feel better, and maybe then the three of them could play. It would all work out.

“Oh, Spotty,” called the babysitter some time later, waking him from his nap. “I’m so sorry that your sister didn’t like me,” she cooed at him, “but we don’t need her anyway. That’s why I’ve baked a lovely cake for just the two of us to share.”

Flurnston photo: Marcello il mostro, by akk_rus, licensed under CC BY 2.0