“The Bogeyman doesn’t exist.” I told my son.
“Yes, he does!” The kid shouted back.
This was getting annoying, ever since I allowed him to watch some horror movie he brought home he’d been raving about this Bogeyman nonsense. Enough was enough.
“Stop bothering me and your mother with this or I’m taking away your video games.” Harsh, but he was already ten years old and had to grow up.
The kid looks like he’s going to start sobbing.
“There’s no need to be sad. The Bogeyman doesn’t exist. Your mother and I both love you, so please be a brave boy now and go to bed.”
I glance at the closet as I go and turn off the light, but everything looks normal. Nothing weird.
“Okay. I love you dad.” The kid whispered.
“I love you too son.” I told him back.
A few minutes later when I was downstairs, getting a glass of water, I heard the most terrifying sound I could imagine. My son screaming, and the raspy roar of something else.
I rush back to his room, only to see the terrifying visage of my son being dragged through the closet door by a scarred horrible gaunt pale hairless being with sharp nails, even sharper teeth, and shimmering shining eyes.
It’s hard to make out it’s horrifying voice. I’m not certain, but it sounds like it’s loudly rasping “A kid. A kid.”.
As it disappears with my shrieking son I run after the thing, while shouting in fear and anger. Coming upon the closet I find a hole in the ground inside of it. The tunnel of a cave.
I hesitate, wondering if I should call the cops, but when my son shouts “Dad, help!”, I quickly disregard that idea and climb into the narrow passage. The cave is too dark to see in so I pull out my phone to get a bit of light.
I then begin to crawl after the thing that took my son, ignoring the pain of the jagged walls of the cave tearing up my body. I crawl for what feels like hours, and then turn off my phone to preserve it’s energy while I continue on.
I’ve been crawling for maybe days. I got hungry and tried to eat some of the moss growing from the cave walls, it’s tasteless but edible, so at least I won’t die. Water that I can drink also occasionally drips from cracks in the walls.
Sometimes I imagine I hear my son calling to me, but I can’t be certain it’s really him or if I’m mishearing something else. It feels like I’ve been crawling for weeks now, my body hurts.
I have a bit of my phone battery left, so I’m using it to write out my story here and send this last message. I noticed that the light from the phone doesn’t really matter anymore because the cave isn’t so dark any longer, in fact, it almost shimmers. My eyes must have adapted to it. Though I feel like my eyesight is getting blurrier and my hearing is getting worse. I decided to finally call the cops a while ago, they had a hard time making out my voice, but I think they got the gist of what I was telling them.
I’m sorry honey, I promise I’ll find our son. I’ll find my kid. My kid.