Boogeyman
A Micro Short story by Sean McGovern
For Jen Kleinot, because Cheez-its rock.
He woke, knowing only that he
had to pee. This was new – normally he
was smart enough to stand on the stool and use the toilet before saying good
night to his mother and father, before even brushing his teeth. But tonight had been different. Totally cool, but different tonight mom was
out of town, at a convention for her job, and it was just Joey and his dad –
and his dad had promised him a special guys night. And boy, had he ever kept that promise!
His dad had
ordered pizza and a bottle of soda, and they had left the TV on so they could
watch it while they ate. He had had to
promise not to tell mom they had done it, and Joey knew he’d be keeping that
one just like his dad had kept his. And
dad seemed different. Joey had been on
his third glass of soda – a whole three glasses – and his dad had laughed,
saying he didn’t know a six year old could drink that much and not belch! Not even once! And as soon as his dad said that, Joey had
let it rip – the loudest, longest burp ever.
It had rattled his body, stung his throat like nothing else, and he and
his dad had sat, dumb struck at its majesty.
His dad had held up a finger, and then let go a bellow of a burp, so
deep that it was just an “urp”, and had held the note like a singer. His dad had matched him glass for glass –
only his had been bigger and filled with thick brown beer, not soda – and the
air stank of his drink more than Joey’s.
And they had
giggled. Man, oh man, how they had
giggled at the sounds! Then dad and he
had brushed their teeth, and dad had tucked him in, making sure that the
Superman nightlight was plugged in and ready to go. Joey had wanted Batman. Batman was way cooler, and he worked at
night. Superman was powered by the sun –
everyone knew that! Heck, even his mom had known that – and she didn’t even
like comics! But his dad had made sure
Superman was plugged in, and went around closing the draws and the closet door,
and making sure Joey’s shows were under his bed. He offered to check under the bed like he used
to. Joey had rolled his eyes – which he
knew was the mature thing to do. He was
six now – and big for his age! And his
mom and dad had told him when he was little: There’s nothing there in the dark
that wasn’t there in the light.
And he had a
light. He had Superman! Just like he looked on the cartoon and the Batman and Superman Adventures comics
his dad came home with for him on Saturdays.
He had told
his dad this, and his dad had laughed.
Kind of. The sound didn’t really
get past his throat. Joey knew that
laugh – it was the laugh his dad always had after it got dark and he had
forgotten about work. It was his after
dinner laugh, the one that sounded tired.
Joey liked that laugh. He wanted
to laugh like that when he got to be as big as his dad.
But now he
was in bed, and his bladder was straining.
And the nightlight…that didn’t seem so strong right now. It was across the room from his bed, near the
closet. And…and his dad had closed that
door. Right? Yeah.
Yeah, he had – his dad had definitely closed that door. He had heard the click. His dad didn’t close it the way his mom did,
didn’t turn the handle so you could only here the thunk. With his dad there was always the click-thuck
on the door being closed properly.
But it was
open. Wide open.
Joey lay
there, looking at the doorway. The light
didn’t go past where the door should have been.
Like it was scared. Superman was
there, rising out of his plug, but usually he seemed full of light. You couldn’t even make out the bulb – it was
that good a nightlight, the kind that cast the glowing image of Clark Kent out
like a reverse shadow. But now…but now
it seemed a little dimmer, as thought it was shrinking away from the door.
He felt his
stomach lurch. Not his stomach –
something else near it. He knew that
sensation – and door open or not, he remembered his mother’s threat if he ever
wet the bed again. He was six now, and
only babies, and one kid in school who smelled like pee to begin with, wet the
bed. But he kept looking at the door,
even as the thing behind his stomach flinched again. He knew his dad had closed it – he remembered
the click of the door shutting. Or did
he? His father had done it so often that
maybe he was only thinking that he had heard his father close the door, the
same way he sometimes only thought his mom had come in to wake him when she
herself was still asleep.
The thing
twinge did it – Joey threw his legs over the side of the bed, feeling the
little wobble in his knees that holding back always gave him. He remembered his parents’ words – there was
nothing in the dark that wasn’t there in the light. He caught a glimpse of his feet in the
slightly blue light of Superman, and was about to stand when he saw them. His feet stuck out of his polar bear pajamas,
still a little grimy since his dad hadn’t made him wash. The pajamas were a deep blue, with white
polar bears turning the heads to look out at the world, some of them raising
one paw as though waving, and from a distance, the material looked like the end
of a Spring day, light enough for white clouds, early enough to keep the sky
from going red.
They were
fading. Pajamas and feet, they were
fading into the gloom that seemed to be taking over his bedroom. He watched as the pale skin of his feet began
to look more like shadows than skin, and polar bears that looked like clouds
vanished into the deep, dark blue that surrounded them. Joey gasped, and looked to Superman. The reassuring figure was growing
fainter. Joey tried to think, but found
his mind chugging slowly as he watched the light recede, crawling back into the
plastic, and the bulb within. He watched
the darkness crowd it out.
He wanted to
say something, wanted to hear a voice, even his own. He wanted to call for his dad, what the big
guy to burst in and change the light. Because
that was all it was. It had to be. Some lights did that – they didn’t pop,
just…they did that. Didn’t they?
There was the
whisper then. That was what it sounded
like – but not when a voice whispered.
It was a whisper of old cloth. Of
snakes over sand. Of moth wings.
For a flash,
the room was completely black, but the light returned. Dimmer. Dimmer.
The whisper
slid up the wall, and Joey followed the sound with his eyes. Whatever was making the noise lurked high,
near the ceiling, beyond what was left of the nightlight’s reach. Joey looked at the spot where he thought it
was.
Knew it was.
He knew it
was there in the corner. Just as he knew
it would come for him once the light was gone.
The voice was
the sound of skin chirping open. It
slithered down from the corner, and he knew what it would say, as the bulb in
Superman finally went out. “Don’t worry,”
it said. “There's nothing there in the
dark that isn’t there in the light.”
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