Disclaimer: I own nothing. It all belongs to Neil Gaimon. Who isn't me. Sad.
Children caught in a web, a humanoid spider in the middle, Building her web of tricks and lies, of secrets and paradise.
Her name is the Beldam and you never see until it's too late, shiny button eyes to make you stay, wrapped in thread then thrown away.
Inside the mirror, in you go, nothing left of you but bare soul. Four times she's built, three she's fed, her rats watching empty beds.
A cat watches silently as she plans again, making a new doll with which to spy.
A new web now, new world to build for the new child who'll become her next meal.
Spools of black silk and liquid mirrors for control.
Goodbye little child, goodbye little boy, crying bloody tears from black button eyes.