Wanda was fast asleep in her room and her mother gave a silent thanks that the nightmare wasn’t too bad to chase away. Wanda was always having bad dreams. Always about masked, invisible, teleporting, vanishing, or otherwise ephemeral men. Wanda said that they were always grown-up and they talked to her or pinched her or poked her with needle-fingers. They were slowly getting better though as they had been regularly visiting a psychiatrist even though Wanda was only eight.

Nine years later…

“Bye, Wanda!” Her mother called from the front door of their old Tudor home.

Wanda mumbled a “goodbye” as she read one of her many textbooks on the subconscious human mind.

She heard the door shut & she pulled out a remote from her pocket. She clicked a few buttons and techno music began pouring out of the speakers around the house. She kept reading & almost didn’t notice the man materializing a few feet in front of her. Her eyes grew wide with an old fear as the man waved at her.

“Good morning, Wanda. You got big.”