When the doorbell rang, George got up from his couch and answered the door. There stood a woman in her early twenties wearing a denim jacket, a tee shirt advertising a 90s rock band, and a pair of designer jeans with holes in them. She was a little taller than average and of fit build.

“Thank god you're home,” she said as she pushed past him into the apartment. “I've been trying to find you for a while now.”

“Um, who are you and why do you think you know me?” he asked.

“Oh, right. Hi,” she said removing her jacket and tossing it over a chair. She extending her hand. “I'm Amy. We've never met while awake. But you're the witch I've been searching for.”

“Witch? I'm not a....”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, you're not a witch. I knew you'd say that. But trust me. You're a witch. And I need a witch badly right now.”

“I think you should leave. I don't understand a word you are saying and I feel like that's a good thing. Please go.”

She took a deep breath. “What's your name?”

“George.”

“Right. George. Have you ever had a dream that felt so real that you had to make it true when you woke up?”

“No, I don't remember my dreams often.”

“But the ones you remember. What are they like?”

“I... I can't think of any right now.”

“Take your time. Sit.”

“No, I was asking you to leave and you're distracting me.”

“George, I really need help. Please humor me.”

He sighed and sat down on the couch beside her. “A dream?”

“Yes.”

“Last week, I think, I woke up thinking I had met someone who needed me to...” He spoke slowly and then her realized the person in the dream was Amy. “No, you. You needed me to...”

“To turn me into a mannequin. Yes. That was me.”

“That's right. What? No, that's insane. Who needs to be turned into a mannequin?”

“I do.”

“What ever for?”

“It's how I'm supposed to be.”

“Who's supposed to be a mannequin? What kind of life is a mannequin's life?”

“It's not supposed to be permanent. I need a charm so I can become a mannequin as needed. Brad, my boyfriend, will be here soon to pick me up. He'll be really turned on if I were a mannequin.”

“I don't even want to understand that. And I hate to ask this but what does this have to do with me?”

“You're a witch. You can give me a charm or cast a spell that will allow me to turn into a mannequin.”

“I am not a witch.”

“I forgot,” she said suddenly standing. She went to her jacket and got something out of her pocket and placed it in George's hand.

He looked at it. It was a polished stone, maybe agate. It was oval in shape with a flattened side. “It's nice. What do I do with it?”

“This was all in the dream. Hold it in your palm and then cover it with your other hand.”

“Okay.”

“Now concentrate on turning me into a mannequin and when you feel them, speak the words of power.”

He looked at her like she had somehow gotten crazier.

“It won't hut to just give it a try,” she said. She changed her stance so she looked how a store mannequin might stand, arms at her sides but still away from her body, elbows bent. Her legs were about shoulder width apart, one slightly in front of the other. Her head was turn to the left of center. “Here. I'm standing a like a mannequin does. Just imagine I'm made of plastic. My skin is just a coat of paint. Visualize it and then say the words you feel in your mind.”

Standing like that she did look kind of like a mannequin. He tried to imagine her paler and a little thinner. After a moment sounds filled his mind and he heard himself speaking those sounds. “Gorrad loqui tamal....” They were words in a language he had never heard before, much less spoken. The agate became warm in his hands.

“That's it,” Amy said as her body stiffened. She adjusted herself one last time before freezing in place. He skin faded and became a single uniform color. Her face flattened slightly, her eyes looked painted on and lacked depth. A plate appeared below her feet and a pole rose from the plate up her pants leg. Break points formed at her wrists.

The stream of unknowable words stopped and he opened his hand. The agate had changed color to match her plastic skin tone. Looking closely at the agate he could see a reddish aura. Squinting, he could see Amy's face in the reddish glow, smiling.

“No fucking way,” he finally said. He got up and touched her. Plastic. The living woman who barged into his apartment less than fifteen minutes ago was a plastic mannequin. And he had somehow done it to her.

He could see a thin red line connecting the agate to the mannequin. He examined the stone again. “You're in the stone, aren't you?” He said.

“Am I?” Amy's voice made no sound but he heard the words in his head.

He was so startled he dropped the rock. It rolled under the couch. He was about to crawl under and get it when the doorbell rang.

A man and a woman were standing at the door, eyeing each other warily. The man was in his twenties, tall and leaning toward portly. He was dressed casually. The woman was much older, her blond hair showing a bit of gray. She was dressed in an expensive business suit.

The man said, “Is Amy here? I need to take her to the store.”

The woman said, “Can you help him quickly? I have need of your services.”

“Who's Amy? What services?” George played dumb.

“Amy said she was coming here to turn into a mannequin. If she's ready, I'll take her off your hands.”

George stuck his head out the door to see if any of his neighbors were around. None were. He pulled the two of them inside. “Don't talk like that in public.”

“There she is. You do good work,” the man said picking up the jacket from the chair and putting it on the mannequin. “How do I turn her back when she's done?”

“I have no idea.”

“What?”

“Look. She came in here demanding I turn her into a mannequin. Then she hands me a rock and insists I speak some kind of incantation. The next thing I know she's a dummy and the doorbell rings.”

“Aren't you a witch?” The woman asks.

“Up until about twenty minutes ago, I'd have said there's no such thing as witches. But I have a plastic woman in my living room who would say otherwise if she could speak.”

“I'm kind of in a hurry,” the man says. “He's my card. When you figure out how to restore her, call me. She's supposed to be a mannequin till the end of this week. But we had plans to go to the beach a couple weekends from now. So hopefully you can figure it out soon enough.” He picks the mannequin up and walks out with it.

The woman sat on the sofa.

“Sure, make yourself at home.”

“Well, now I don't know if you can help. I wasn't expecting an inexperienced witch.”

“That's fine. I wasn't expecting to cast any spells today.” George said sitting down. “What insanity do you expect me to fulfill?”

“I need to acquire mana to de-age myself. It's been over half a century and I really could use a touch up.”

“You've de-aged before?”

“Yes, do you have a familiar?”

“A what?”

“A familiar. It's like a service animal for witches. Like in the stories where they have a cat.”

“No I don't have a cat. I'm allergic.”

“Oh, I doubt you're allergic now that you've come into your power. It would be mutually beneficial. I could be your familiar and help with you being a witch.”

“You can become my cat?”

“Well, not by myself. You would turn me into a cat and I would absorb stray mana from you to de-age. It's a win-win really.”

“And how would I turn you into a cat?”

“I don't know. You're the witch. How did you turn that girl into a plastic doll?”

“She kind of led me through it. I held a charm in my hand and concentrated on her being a mannequin and the spell just kind of happened.”

“Oh,” the woman says. She removed a necklace from her neck and showed him the charm: a flat plate in the shape of a cat made of gold. “Here, use this. I have care instructions in my purse. You'll have to store my purse and clothes somewhere while I serve you.” She drops the pendant into his hand.

“I don't even know your name and you want to serve me.”

“You know my name.”

“How do you know what I know? How do you know I'm not an evil witch?”

“We shared a dream. Do you not remember?”

That triggered a memory of a dream he had where he was older and owned a black cat. “Margaret.”

“See. You know my name.”

“Fine. Are you comfortable?”

“I should remove my suit jacket.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a wooden hanger. She removed the jacket and draped it over the chair. She kicked off her pumps. “Be sure to hang up the skirt and jacket in a safe place with my purse and pendant.”

“How long do you expect to be my cat?”

“Your familiar. And I probably need fifteen or twenty years to de-age back to my twenties.”

“So about as long as a cat lives.”

“I would not have the lifespan of a cat as your familiar.”

There was an awkward silence as she stood in front of him. “I should start, I guess.” He said, closing the charm between his two hands. It was easy to imagine what a black cat looks like but that did not seem to be enough. He thought about the word familiar and words started to come to mind but he held them back. He then thought about her de-aging and being a manna battery. The words in his head shifted and he started speaking them aloud. “Suukloukk zeddna foll...”

The woman removed the hair clip from her head and her graying hair cascaded around her head and shoulders. She was unbuttoning her blouse as her body started getting smaller. Fur grew out of her face as it changed shape, becoming more feline. Soon her arms disappeared and her blouse drifted off of her as she disappeared into her skirt. A moment later the skirt flipped over and a black house cat was revealed. It meowed at him and nudged her purse with its head.

He could see the same red face outline in the cat pendant. “Are you in there?”

The response was faint. “I'm here only when you hold the pendant. Otherwise I'm in my body. Check my purse.”

He got up and picked up the cat and the purse and sat back down. Absentmindedly scratching the cat behind the ear he opened the purse and found a feeding bowl and a can of expensive cat food.

“Is this a hint that I need to go shopping?”

“You will need to get me a kitty litter box at some point.”

“Some cats use the toilet, I've read.”

“That's not very cat like.”

“Ah, but you're a familiar.”

He picked up her clothes and hung the jacket and skirt on the hanger. He took them into his bedroom and found a place for them in the closet. He hung the necklace from the hanger as well so he would not lose it. The purse and shoes he placed on the floor of the closet close to wear the business suit hung. The rest of her clothes he put in his laundry basket.

He was about to flop onto the bed when he realized he should get to the door. He was opening it just as the doorbell rang.