The puppet danced across the screen, limp arms swinging, blank eyes staring into nothing.

“At night, her parents put her to bed and told her to stay there until morning. You see, the girl and her family weren’t alone. Another family lived nearby. And just as the girl played during the day, the other family liked to play outside at night.”

The lighting changed, dimming and darkening until the green-painted trees turned to a heavy gray and the sky grew dull. The girl’s puppet danced its way back to the house, disappearing off the side of the screen.

There was a momentary pause, then, from the other side—the side with the trees—two more puppets entered the scene. They were taller and thinner, made of gray material, their bodies seeming to sag on the hands that held them upright. Like the girl’s puppet, they had been given dark dots for eyes. Below that were their mouths: long lines curving downward at the end.

Three large Xs had been drawn across both of the mouths.

The bodies swayed as they moved across the screen, approaching the house, their limp arms dangling at their sides.

“The other family would play outside from night until morning.” The woman’s voice had grown further distorted, static hissing across the words, blotting some of them until they were nearly unintelligible. “They didn’t like being interrupted. In fact, if anyone tried to disturb their games, they would be very, very angry.”

The gray forms moved back and forward, pacing between the homes and the trees. Margot leaned even closer, her breath condensing on the screen. The pixels were painfully bright.

“One night, the girl decided she wanted to play with the other family. Even though her parents had always told her to stay in bed until morning, she waited until her parents were asleep and then left her room.”

The girl’s puppet reappeared, its cheerful smock seeming dour and cold in the dulled lighting. The mouthless face stared listlessly out at Margot as she tilted toward the gray figures.

“The girl wanted to make friends, but the other family didn’t want to be friends with her. They were very, very angry that she’d interrupted them.”

The smaller puppet danced closer, wool hair jostling around her head, arms flung out with each forceful step. The gray puppets had turned to face her.

Margot had fallen so still that she no longer even dared breathe. She gripped the television’s sides with both hands, as though clutching it might clear some of the heavy static, might make the image clearer.

“The other family was so angry that they attacked her.” The woman’s voice had grown heavy, dark, angry. “They scratched her and bit her and dragged her into the earth.”