The first time I saw the boogeyman, I didn't realize who he was at first. You see, ever since we were little, we are taught that the boogeyman is the monster that hides under your bed, the one your parents call if you misbehave, the stranger you should not talk to on the street.
I never had a chance.
In the darkness of my room, I still fear saying his name; as if in somehow the mere act of saying it could invoke his presence.
Do you still not understand?
The boogeyman is the family friend, the smiling neighbor, the kind stepfather, the favorite cousin, the model sibling.
The boogeyman is not a monster. It's much worse. The boogeyman is human.
Sometimes at night I pray that this world understands that the "monsters" do not live outside, they live inside us.
About the Creator
Fabiola Reyes
@fabiola_kl
@flying_between_stories_
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Midnight
60 seconds… 59 seconds… Time was slipping through his fingers, though he clawed at the falling grains of sand, he could not stop the hourglass from flowing. Around him, the silence was deafening. He had taken over every screen in the command centre, putting the terrible seconds before the terrified eyes of his friends and comrades.
By Alexander McEvoy5 days ago in Fiction
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