“It's an eyeball,” said Patsy Marchand. "A real one." She glanced at her son, Wilson. He looked green around the gills. He nodded. He was trying very hard not to look at it.

The eyeball was centered on the lid of a pickle jar. The lid lay on the kitchen island, nestled among the bowls of candy she’d prepared for the Halloween party.

“Where’d you find it?”…