Fiction: “The Boogeyman”
Bernard Guzman | On 02, May 2019
Hide. That’s all I can do. I can’t move. I can’t speak. I can’t do anything. I have to keep quiet or else he’ll find me.
I have to keep quiet. I have to stop overthinking or he’ll hear me. Yes, he hears everything.
Maybe… Maybe he won’t appear this time. Maybe this time is different. I’m trying to think otherwise because the truth is ugly. The deep feeling I have is undeniable. He’s here again. The Boogeyman. The dark presence in my home.
The closet in my room is the safest place to be. For now. However, I know the more fear I have, the more the Boogeyman will know where I am. He feeds on fears. They make him stronger.
After I stay hidden in my closet for a good five minutes, I hear a small creak from the door. No…no…no…no. Please, it can’t be. He’s in my bedroom.
I open the closet door just a little to see where he is. A sudden dark shadow fills the room with even more darkness than the room already holds. I have to prepare myself.
As I search my room with one eye peeking, his face pops right into the small opening of the door.
As I run through the pitch black hallways, I hear a distant voice from one of the other rooms. It is my mother crying hysterically.
Not caring what she’s feeling, I grab her hand and pull her quickly to the door.
We almost make it out the front door, but we see his figure was blocking it. We try going back, but for some reason, our bodies freeze completely. We can’t move. We can’t make a single sound. Sweat drips down my forehead, and all I could think about is that we’re not going to make it.
The Boogeyman then has my mother levitating her from the ground. How? What? What does he want? What is he doing?
Her breath suddenly escapes her lips as his bare claws plunge into her flesh just below her ribs.
She doesn’t scream. She doesn’t have the chance.
The figure grabs her by the hair as he pulls his long claws out of her lifeless body. He then slams her head into the doorpost as hard as he can. Over and over again. It leaves me traumatized.
What… What do I do? Words can’t even begin to process what I witness. It is now I know I’m next.
Using all my strength, I manage to unfreeze my body and quickly try going out the back door, however, no matter where I try to escape the house, he is always there to block my way. I don’t know where to run to. I can’t seem to escape this literal hell.
The only place I have in mind is my closet. My safe place.
I quickly dash through the dark hallways. His pace quickens as he’s right behind me. I can hear my heart pounding. It’s about to explode.
I finally make it to my closet. I close my eyes, trying to relax for a minute.
I open my eyes and freak out. I am still stuck in a literal nightmare.
The closet door keeps shaking and shaking nonstop. I know this is it for me.
As the closet door opens, I see the disgusting man I call my father, his scent smelling like he’s been drinking, and his bare hands ready to hit a face.
A man who is truly the Boogeyman himself.