“Have You Seen Me?”
    
I was walking down the road, looking at all the “Have You Seen Me?” posters of Annie Burt, a freckle-faced brunette, who had rather small squinty green eyes. I would know, being the person who was pasting them up on poles, handing them out to people, and even throwing them through open windows. As I got toward the end of one road, there was this strange sight—an elderly lady with mousy gray hair sitting on the side of the road knitting nonstop. Little bits of yarn were falling down from where she was perched.
    
“Excuse me,” I asked. “Would you mind looking at this ‘Have You Seen Me?’ poster?”
    
“Thank you for giving this to me,” she replied, taking it and continuing to knit.
    
I couldn’t contain my curiosity and I asked her, “What are you knitting?”
    
“Only a doll. Would you like to see it?” she inquired.

She handed the doll to me, and I studied it carefully, noting the look of terror on the doll’s face. The doll had brown hair with squinty green eyes. There was a little red stitch on the doll’s wrist. It seemed creepy to me, so I handed it back to the lady.

“Well,” I said in a shaky voice, “I guess I should be getting home.”

“Just a second, dearie,” she rasped. “May I see your hand for a second?”

Before I could protest, she pricked my wrist with her knitting needle. I felt my blood drain out of my face and I became floppy and numb. There was something inside me that was twisting all over. My pupils began to expand and bleed, but I could not stop them. Yarn of all colors began to wind and twist around me, strangling and choking me. The yarn was intertwining and wrapping around me like strands of DNA. My body was shrinking, the yarn was tightening, my insides were writhing, and then, my vision went black. . . .

I now know what had happened to Annie Bert. I, too, would soon be on a “Have You Seen Me?” poster.