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Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Dark · #1494689
This is a short story I wrote for my grade nine English class.
          I was lying, curled in my bed shaking and sobbing. I knew that if I turned off my lights that he would get me. Some people think that the Boogeyman is an illogical fear. If it really was illogical, people never would have feared it in the first place. And if it really was an illogical fear, I wouldn’t be afraid of him because I am NOT an illogical person despite the fact that I’m only thirteen. And not all blondes are as dim-witted as jokes, movies, and books make them out to be either!

          “December Skye Wallis!” my mother screeched out my full name at me in her horrendously shrill voice. “Turn off your lights and go to sleep! It’s nearly midnight!”

          I couldn’t turn off the lights for fear that the Boogeyman would come out of my closet. And I most certainly couldn’t disobey my mother again! She would, without a doubt, thrash me. There was only one option.

          I glanced around my small room quickly before making my final decision. I grabbed my drab school bag and dumped its contents on the floor, except for a pencil. I tossed some random clothes into the bag, followed by a book for entertainment if the opportunity ever arose, and a wallet that I knew contained; forty-seven dollars I had gotten for my birthday, the day before, between my dad, grandparents, and older brother; and my bank card. I tossed my half eaten sandwich and untouched apple from school that day on top, and was finally satisfied.

          “DECEMBER!” Mother screamed again. “Turn off the lights!!!”

          “But what about the Boogeyman?” I asked, knowing how ridiculous I sounded.

          “Just shut up and turn off your lights! Don’t make me come in there, girl!”

          I grabbed an elastic to tie back my blonde hair from my pale, thin, malnourished face and was out the window, gracefully hitting my head off the peeling window frame on my way out.

          I was free. I was finally free from my abusive mother; my dad, who was never home; my overprotective brother; my dreary house that hadn’t been home in a long time; and most importantly, the tall, looming, dark and blood-covered, forever-watching Boogeyman who had haunted my room for the past two weeks. For once in my short life, I was taking a stand and escaping.

          I began running. I didn’t have anywhere to go. I just ran to escape from my nightmarish life that I had grown sick of a long time ago. Before I knew it, I was in the downtown portion of the city. Although I’m not so sure I should have been. Downtown, in Toronto, in the middle of the night? It was an incredibly stupid place to be. Yet, I still stuck my thumb up; hoping some poor fool would give a runaway a lift to a better place. It didn’t happen. Instead, I found myself at a children’s playground, crawling into a tube to sleep for the night, using my backpack for a pillow.

          It was unusually dark, the city lights not giving everything its usual glow. It was eerie. Then he was there. The Boogeyman had followed me to the playground! How could something so hellish and gruesome go unnoticed it the middle of the city?

          Then it hit me. I was the only one who could see him! And if it was visions of him that troubled me so, could I not erase him from existence in my world by not seeing him? It was so simple!

          As the twisted creature I had feared for the past two weeks of my life approached me, I pulled out the pencil I had left in my bag. I fearlessly stuck the pencil into my left eye. It didn’t really hurt. I just could no longer see. I could feel the blood streaming down my left cheek from where my pretty green eye had once been. But one eye just wouldn’t do, for I could still see him with the right one. With far more force and confidence, I stuck the pencil into my right eye. I could now feel the blood pouring down both cheeks. I laughed at how easy it was to rid myself of my one great fear. Then came the icy cold breath on my face, from the Boogeyman that should have been gone.

          I woke with a wretched scream that could have woken the dead along with me. Oh thank God, it was only a dream. It had seemed so real. I know that dreams usually do, but it honestly could have been real. It didn’t really matter though. I was home and safe. Well, at least I thought I was home, but I couldn’t recall it being that dark in my room.

          “Are you alright?” asked the kind-sounding voice of an obviously elderly woman.

          “Yes, I’m fine.” I replied. “Just a nightmare. I know it sounds ridiculous, but it was about the Boogeyman,” I laughed. “Then for some reason I gouged out my eyes to get rid of him,” I laughed again but quickly grew serious. “Who are you?”

          “Oh, dear! Can’t you remember? Oh, no,” she said but responded to my question with, “Honey, I’m your nurse. I’m Mrs. Daniels. Don’t you remember?”

          “No, I don’t. Nurse? Why do I need a nurse? Where am I? Could you please turn on the lights and tell me where I am?” I asked, quickly growing tired of this queer conversation in the dark.

          “The lights are on, December. Oh, dear.” Mrs. Daniels almost seemed to be in a panic now. “You’re in a hospital. You have been here for awhile. You are going to be staying for awhile. Oh, please tell me you remember why?”

          “No, I don’t remember why. Please tell me,” I begged, now in a panicked state myself.

          “Oh! You stuck out your own eyes and claimed it was to rid yourself of the Boogeyman! That’s why you’re in the hospital! That’s why it’s so dark! The lights are on, but you couldn’t possibly see, having poked your eyes out with a pencil to get rid of your hallucinations!”

          I screamed again, this one more shrill and horrible than the first, and then nothing. Only silence to match my black world.

© Copyright 2008 Elizabeth (elizabethlk at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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