Ghost Stories

There was a story going around school about something called “The Boogeyman.” Jeremy, an 8-year-old boy wanted to know more about this thing, so he asked around like a detective. He wanted to know details such as what it looks like and what it does. What he found out made him wonder if he should’ve ever asked. For the rest of the day at school, Jeremy wandered around with a blank look on his face. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. He had a full-size image in his head of what The Boogeyman looked like. He wondered if everything he heard was real or true, and if he would see The Boogeyman that night.

The school day passed and children happily went home, except one—Jeremy. He didn’t want to go home. He was too scared. His mother asked Jeremy what was wrong with him. He told her everything he had heard. His mother laughed. She told him that this was around when she was a child and that The Boogeyman was not real. This calmed Jeremy, and he was soon back to his usual self. He played with his toys, played on his console, and for the first time, played with his annoying brother Jimmy. Then night came, and it was Jeremy’s bedtime. His mother got him to go to sleep by reading him his favorite story in her soothing voice.

At around 12:00 AM, Jeremy was woken up by a sudden thud within his room. He shot up with his sheets covering half his face and his knees knocking madly. Thoughts from the day had quickly rushed back to him. He could not blink. He was too afraid of The Boogeyman getting him. Suddenly, his toy fell from the window, where the curtains were swaying in the wind. Then a shadow was outside his door, and it grew bigger and bigger and bigger until the door opened. He screamed.

“It’s okay,” his mother called. “It’s just me.” As she calmed him down, he lay down and tried to go to sleep, but he was thinking about the noise that happened earlier and what could have made it. As Jeremy was about to enter dreamland, he heard another thud—a thud that sounded as if it were beneath his bed. Once again, Jeremy was up. What should I do, he thought. Should I run? Should I scream? Instead, he bucked up his courage and decided to look under his bed. His heart pounded like crazy. He found nothing was there, just some toys and books. “Pheewww!” he said.

He rose with relief, only to find someone standing in front of him, a person wearing a black cloak and with the brightest devilish yellow eyes glaring at him. He was frozen; he tried to scream, he tried to move, but it wasn’t happening. Then he screamed out a long, “NNNOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

Three weeks later, and Jeremy still has not been found.