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Duane Michals - The Bogeyman, 1973 | More posts

GOOD FUCKING GOD THAT IS TERRIFYING

Fuck

“And so the little lamb and his mama live happily ever after,” the girl finished reading her story aloud to the creature beside her. Hopeful orbs of blue glistened as she cocked her head up at him. “Didya like that, Mister Boogey?”

No response from underneath the black coat. She frowned, teetering off her seat ever so slowly before her tiny feet reached the ground.

“Mister Boogey?” she asked again, gripping the corners of the dark trench coat.  When nothing responded, she slowly peeled it open, revealing the coat rack on which he had been perched. Where had he gone?

The little girl shrunk back, upset that her friend had left without a word. She curled up in her chair, clutching the book tightly in case he came back to hear the rest of the tale. Suddenly, a soft wind blew through the empty room, but before she could turn to see what had caused it, she was swept up in darkness.

“Gotcha,” the creature chuckled, cradling her close to him.

The child squeal with laughter most contagious, pleased of his return.

“I thought you left!” She gave a pout, looking up at his shadowy face.

“Why, my dear, I’d never leave you. I am your guardian after all, am I not?” The monster gave her a toothy smile. “And I will always be your Boogeyman.”

^I squeaked at this.