Take the book home to try again.

There was no way the tome could be real. It was someone’s idea of a prank--something out of the drama-wing prop room.

But if you believed that, why were you upstairs in the dark, reading from the book over two candles? With its heavy blackout drapes, your mom’s room was the only space dark enough to follow the book’s instructions. When you cast a spell, no part of the day’s light could be upon your face. Apparently this class of spell required firelight.

You spoke the words on the page carelessly, having no target in mind. After a few passages, it became clear that you were right--nothing seemed to happen. You laughed at yourself, looking at the dripping candles. Now all the superstition made you feel silly. You blew out the two candles.

As you headed back toward the door, you heard the click of the lock turning over in the dark. You stopped, looking down at the keyhole for some sign that someone was on the other side, but there was only a steady stream of daylight. You try the knob, and it’s locked--just as you suspected.

“Hello?”

There’s no other sound in the house--no person on the other side of this door to have locked it. It doesn’t make sense--and so you try the door again.

As you feebly rattle the locked door, you’re stunned by the sight of the closet and various dresser drawers opening up. Light spills into the room as the heavy drapes blow around. The windows are closed, but now a magical wind begins to pull your mom's clothes out of their places in drawers and shelves, causing them to fly wildly around the room. You try backing away from the unbelievable storm, but you’re soon tripped by a pair of high heels.

As the spellbook tumbles to the floor, you feel yourself caught before you make impact.

Several pairs of your mom's gloves caught you and guided your body to the bed, holding you down once you were safely in place. You tried to get up, but the gloves were too strong.

When the maelstrom of clothing calmed, the items were joined into various outfits, standing around and holding your mom’s invisible shape.

"Let me go!" You shout. A pair of gloves brings the book to your gaze and points out a passage on the same page you read from earlier.

"Be sure to have a specific target in mind or the spell risks running wild..." You looked up at a pair of shapely pantyhose, filled out to your mom’s curves and standing over you on the bed. With a stutter, you asked, "What are you going to do to me?"