My name is Marcia Atwell
I am 2 years old
Please call my grandma Christine if found
It then listed a phone number Marcia didn’t recognize, but an address she did, as it was the address of the mansion. As she read, Marcia saw her skin darkening to become much closer to Christine’s. These two facts made Marcia wonder if the banshee was able to affect other people with these changes or not. Suddenly nervous by the crinkle she’d heard as she fell on her butt, Marcia lifted the skirt of her dress. She swallowed anxiously at the plain but clearly expensive reusable diaper she now wore.
“Naughty girl,” the banshee chided. It gently smacked Marcia’s hand. “A proper young lady doesn’t lift her dress like that!” The banshee finished buckling the backpack and then picked Marcia up. “I’d let you walk, sweetie, but girls as little as you don’t walk that well. So I’ll have to carry you.”
The banshee then began to float down the hall, carrying Marcia in her arms. They passed by a mirror, in which Marcia could see her reflection. Marcia felt a spurt of pee enter her diaper in shock. She didn’t look like herself anymore. Like she had worried when she saw her skin darken, her features now resembled Christine’s, with Christine’s nose and curly, black hair. Some part of her was relieved that her eyes hadn’t changed. They were still almond-shaped and a warm gray.
“Hopefully this will be enough to get Christine out of here before the full moon,” the banshee mumbled to herself. Marcia craned her neck to look up at the banshee. “Oh, don’t you worry your pretty little head about it. All you need to worry about now is daycare and potty training.”
“Potty training?” Marcia squeaked.
“I know you saw that diapy on you. Did you think it was just for decoration?” the banshee asked. Marcia swallowed nervously. They turned a corner and saw Rusty, inspecting a family painting that Marcia could see now had her in it. “Oh, this is perfect!”
Rusty looked up. His eyes widened. Marcia opened her mouth to shout a warning, but before she could, the banshee worked its magic again. Before Marcia’s eyes, Rusty began to shrink down, his features and clothes changing into small black child like Marcia now was. Like Marcia, Rusty’s hair and nose matched Christine’s, but his bright blue eyes remained unchanged.
“I think you need a brother,” the banshee said to Marcia. “Rusty Atwell, welcome to the family.”
Rusty looked up at the banshee, clearly horrified to now be a…