Leash in one hand, his cat led him through the pet cemetery. Kinda creepy, he thought. She could
end up here one day. The cat paused and sniffed at something shiny. Henry bent down to investigate
—a silver hair clip. Just sitting on the grass. Pristine. He picked it up and cupped it gingerly as if it
were a living thing. The clip had a silver marble pattern, so beautiful. Mesmerizing. Like a planet in
his hands. Henry knew his wife would love it.

​

When he squeezed it open, projectiles erupted from the eight ends of the clip with a chuck sound and
pierced the fatty palm of his right hand, injecting him with a silvery goo, acting like a plastic reptile.
The clip released from his flesh and fell to the rocky earth. Henry instinctively pressed the injured
part of his palm to his mouth. The goo tasted like cherries.

​

Henry's vision blurred. He stood erect as if his spine had become a steel rod. He heard a chorus of
mumbled voices until one of those voices became clear and told him something he had to do.

 

"Yes, I understand."

​

Henry's vision returned to normal. He picked up the hair clip, now void of goo, and led his cat back
home.

​

He found his wife, Stephanie, sitting on the couch, watching TV. "How was your walk?" she asked
as the cat bounded for the water bowl in the kitchen.

​

Henry let go of the leash. "Look what I found." He sat beside his wife and presented her with the
hair clip, again cupping it with both hands—a trophy.

​

"Wow, how pretty," she said, but she didn't touch it. "Set it on the table."

​

"No, put it in your hair."

​

"Now? Why? I don't want to."

​

"But I want to see what it looks like in your hair."

​

"I'll do it later. I'm watching my show."

​

Henry pressed a button on the TV remote, pausing her show. "Please?"

​

"You're being weird," she said with a scowl. "Where did you find this?"

​

"Franny found it in the pet cemetery."

​

"Well, that's just creepy."

​

"Well, okay, sure, but look how pretty it is."

​

With apprehension, Stephanie picked up the clip and turned it around, taking a good look at it. "It is
beautiful." She twirled her red hair up and then clipped it to her scalp. Suddenly, those projectiles
forked into her skull. She sat straight up, her eyes wide and glassy.

​

"Yes, I understand," she said.

​

She gazed at Henry, released the clip from her hair, held it out, facing him with those projectiles still
ominous, like insect legs, goo dripping from the ends, and said, "Let's begin."

​

###

​

One detective spoke with a neighbor. Another tried to speak with Stephanie, who sat on the couch in
a catatonic daze. The coroner stood over the body of Henry, who was naked on the floor and covered
from head to toe in some sort of silvery goo.