Betty was back in her apartment, staring at the picture that was now back hanging on the wall. Up and down. The picture didn’t want to stay still. What was it?
Was the picture itself important?
She studied the frame. The picture was a photo of newborn Bobby. Typical hospital baby picture. Nothing remarkable.
Or was it?
Something was trying to get her attention, mimicking Lonny Meow’s experience.
“Mr. Smartypants, are you here?” Betty whispered. She felt ridiculous saying it out loud. She tucked Bobby into the crib for a nap and looked at the picture on the wall. It wasn’t moving. There was nothing.
“Have a nice nap, Bobby,” Betty whispered. Bobby snuffled and sighed, his eyelids closing. Betty patted his hair as he began to snore lightly. She left the room, and only half shut the door.
Back in the living room, she looked around as if expecting to see someone hiding in the curtains or behind the door.
“Mr. Smartypants, are you here?” Betty asked a little louder. Then she giggled. “Why would a ghost from a child’s house thirty years ago be here?”
She settled herself back at the computer. She clicked over to YouTube to see who was talking about what.
She poked around until she found a video about manifesting. She put on her earbuds and watched the swirls of colors, listening to the binaural beats ringing through her ears.
A man’s voice with a thick accent rose up through the tones. His voice precisely articulated his words, each vowel ringing in his tone.
“You are wealthy, you are successful. Repeat the words: I am a money magnet.”
Betty whispered the mantra back.
“I am a money magnet.”
The man continued on. “I have the ability to manifest whatever I need. Say it.”
“I have the ability to manifest whatever I need.”
There was a loud crash from Bobby’s room. Even though her headphones, Betty heard it.
“Bobby,” she cried as she tore off the headphones and headed for the bedroom. The door was shut. She jiggled the knob, but it was stuck. The apartment was flooded with the sounds of the Disney lullaby album blaring.
“What the hell?!” Betty cried as the music grew louder. She banged and hammered on the door.
“Bobby! Bobby are you in there?”
At last, she stood back and kicked at the doorknob. It broke off as the door swung open.
Betty ran for the crib.
Bobby was gone.
All the pictures were off the wall and on the floor.
“Bobby!” she shrieked. She ran to the window, but it was solidly shut. So shut that she couldn’t open it. She searched through the blankets, the toys, the tiny closet. She threw everything around, searching for Bobby. She ran back out to the living room, no Bobby.
Betty screamed and cried. “Bobby!”
Then she stopped.
She took a deep breath, her hands shaking, her voice quivering even though she tried to be firm.
“Mr. Smartypants, give me back my baby!”