“We’re not in Japan,” Bully snaps at me. “Just eat, already. We’re going to be late, thanks to you.”

“Late? For what?”

Bully slams her fists on the dining table. “She forgot about the wedding. Mo-om, Da-ad, Cybelle forgot about my wedding!”

Mom ignores her. “Cybelle, eat fast or we’re going to be late. We don’t have time for jokes today.”

I pick up my fork and knife to start hacking away. “I didn’t forget. It’s just that … well, I should tell you. I just had the most horrifying dream. I was —” I look up from my forkful of pancakes. There’s something in the kitchen window. “What the hell is that?”

No one seems to hear me. They go on, chatting with one another. Something scratches at the window. It disappears from sight, reappearing at the back door. It’s a giant boar. Somehow, someway, it manages to wedge its thick, massive snout into the aluminum side between the door and the kitchen wall. It pushes through the crack, and the door begins to slide open.

It’s coming inside.

“No!” I leap from my chair, toppling it over. Again, no one notices anything out of the ordinary. I throw myself against the door, trying to stop the beast. I push my shoulder and my foot against the door, noticing two more creatures in the backyard. They look like shiny gold aliens with bulging black eyes. One is eating plums off a small tree. Its mouth is smothered in dark juice as it crams more and more fruit into its face. Another is fishing in the mint garden, fishing rod in its awkward hands and a small bucket of fresh smelt beside its naked bum. It turns and sees me and smiles a stretched-out row of translucent shark teeth. I scream for help again and again, but no one comes to the rescue.

I look over my shoulder. My family. Where did they go? There’s only a gathering of glowing will-o’-the-wisps around our dining table.

“Storm’s a brewin’,” says a high-pitched voice. “Perfect weather for a wedding.”

I turn my attention back to the door. The boar is now a person, two feet taller than me with dead anime eyes and a wide toothy grin. It isn’t pushing the door open anymore. It’s reaching for me. My last cry for help is cut short, gagging in my throat as the dead-eyed creature smiles, squeezes, and smiles even more. Slowly, I begin to lose the battle for my life. My eyes flutter. My legs kick. Everything goes dark and quiet.

“Ima okina-EE-to, okurema-SOO, yo …”

“What?” I sit upright.