The floor creaked beneath her feet. The house was completely dark except for the glowing eyes of her companion.

“Um, what was your name again,” Melody asked the eyes.

“Fudge,” the eyes said. “Silly.”

“Hrrmm. What kind of name is Fudge?”

“Come on. We don't want to keep them waiting.”

Melody was deeply concerned by this. “Keep who waiting?” She didn't want to follow these glowing eyes anywhere, but she couldn't seem to stop herself.

“They're just in here,” said Fudge, and its glowing eyes began to blink, followed by a whoosh of air.

Melody at once recognized the effect of the swinging doors leading to her own kitchen. She felt her way forward and found the wood hard against her fingertips. It gave easily under slight pressure.

“Don't go in,” she told herself. But it was no use. Her body and her brain seemed to be disconnected at the moment. She pushed open the door, and found herself surrounded by millions of tiny glowing eyes. They sparkled in the darkness like stars in twilight, baby Fudges dropping down from the ceiling on tiny, invisible strands.

“NO,” she screamed. “I don't want to be here.”

“It's too late,” Fudge told her. “You're already here.”

Melody felt herself scream. She couldn't stop, like some relentless force had grabbed her about the throat and pried open her jaw.

“No! Stop it,” she thought, for into her open mouth dropped scores of baby Fudges with little care for their own safety.