Friday, September 27, 2013


The Third-Floor Bedroom

It all began when someone left the window open.

Dear Reader,

Be warned before reading this tale, as it may upset you, especially if you have children. And if you have children you surely don’t want them stolen from you in the dead of night. You still here? I thought so. I like you. You’re brave. You’re not afraid to take on the new challenge of reading something, even if it might upset you. Enough with the pleasantries.

You want to know something? I have a secret. A big secret. You want to know what it is? I know you do. Anytime anybody tells you that they have a secret you want to know what it is. You ask them politely, you beg, plead, and threaten them. I know what it is like to not know a secret. That is why I worked so hard to learn the one you want me to tell you. If you really must know the secret, then read on. But it is not advised.

You know those stories that parents tell their children about the Boogeyman? They’re all true. All the fear and nightmares about him that have come from the children have manifested themselves into one dark entity. A shadow without a soul, but one that can very easily cause harm to anyone whom he wishes. Fearing him is like personally inviting to your house. That was my mistake. This tale is about my personal encounter with him.

I had learned of the Boogeyman from my cousin, who knew the secret, after I had I badgered him endlessly for it. But I wished I hadn’t. I couldn’t sleep after that.  I spent many nights under my covers, either staring at the ceiling or checking my closet and under my bed for anything suspicious. My encounter with him happened on a summer night. It was hot as could be, and my family couldn’t afford air conditioning. It all began when someone left the window open.

I had somehow managed to fall asleep that night. I started having nightmares. I was lying in my bed, but I was frozen. My arms stuck to my sides, I couldn’t move an inch. I heard what sounded like whispers coming from all four corners of my bedroom. Suddenly shadows started spreading from my window to all corners of the room and up the walls. As they spread to the ceiling, the whispers got louder and louder. They got so loud it felt as if my eardrums would burst. It was the strangest thing; whispers that were incredibly thunderous. I couldn’t even understand what they were saying, it was all at once. But then, slowly a figure starting rising from the shadows. It got taller and taller. I tried to scream, but couldn’t. The figure slowly took the shape of a man, tall and dark, with what appeared to be dark, gray skin, dead, black eyes, and a pointed nose. He smiled from ear-to-ear, showing me his grotesque set of razor sharp teeth.

With the maniacal-like whispering pounding in my ear, he bent down closer to my face, until his pointed nose almost touched mine. He stared into my eyes with those dead eyes of his. He bent down further until he was close to my ear. The whispering stopped all at once, and then he whispered

“This is not a dream.”

I woke up startled. There was the Boogeyman, still leaning over me. He was real. He was a real living being. He picked me up with his shadowy hands, taking me towards the window. But as he was about to go through the window, the morning started to rise. I never heard from the Boogeyman again.

So that’s my secret. Only disclose it to those you hate.

 

 

 

         

1 comment:

  1. I really like your running dialogue with the reader. This piece has such a great sense of voice...You tap into that well of fear most of us have about the creatures that stir while we sleep. As a mom, this reminds me a bit of a scary scene in Dark Skies where the mother checks on her son in his room and sees a shadowy figure leaning over her son's bed. Terrifying.

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