Boogieman

Jonathan’s kids, Arlo and Devon, crawled into their beds.

Cal, their cat, curled up at the foot of Arlo’s bed. Its tail swept up and landed with a contented thud every few seconds.

Arlo asked, “Will you read us a story?”

Devon giggled. “A scary one.”

“I don’t know… would your mom like that? The idea’s to sleep, not get nightmares…”

Grinning, she held out an old, hard covered book. “This one…”

The book looked familiar to Jonathan, as if from a dream. Taking it from her he looked at the faded print on the spine, ‘Stories for the Sleepless, by Edwin Greet.’ A chill gave him a shudder.

“No, no… I don’t think so.”

They protested.

Concerned, he asked, “Where did you find this?”

It was bizarre. A mere kid the last time he saw it, he thought it was long gone.

‘And good riddance.’

Arlo said, “It was in the basement. In a box.”

Devon giggled, “Your name’s in it.”

Jonathan fought a sense of dread descending like toxic fog. He shoved the book under his arm and shook his head. He feigned a casual air.

“Oh, that was junk I retrieved after my mother...” ‘Should’ve tossed it all. What else is hiding in there?’

So many years ago, he loved Poe and old H. P. But this guy was obscure. Didn’t know where he got it. Or why he’d kept it. Back then, it scared the hell out of him. ‘Must have read it a dozen times. Or thirteen…’

Curious that he remembered it the other day for the first time in decades.

“Come on, Dad!”

“It’ll be fun!”

They watched him, wide-eyed and eager.

‘Show no fear.’

He said, “Okay. But only one. And no nightmares. Okay?”

In chorus, “Yay! Okay!” They clapped hands.

Jonathan sat on a stool between their beds and adjusted the light. He flipped through pages. Vivid illustrations revived memories he wished were long forgotten.

The kids looked on expectantly. Cal perked her ears up. Her tail fell silent.

The book fell open to a story with a dog-eared first page. Jonathan remembered it as scary. It had obviously been a favorite.

‘How bad can it be?’ He cleared his throat and resigned himself to reading. ‘Hope I can sleep…’

“Rest in Peace, by Edwin Greet…”

Devon asked, “What’s ‘rest in peace’ mean, Daddy?”

“People say it at funerals hoping the dead won’t be disturbed.”

“Oh… Is Mommy resting in peace?”

Arlo said, “Dev…!”

“Mommy hasn’t passed away, Devon. She’s visiting your grandma. I hope she sleeps well. But we don’t say ‘rest in peace’ for the living.”

Devon nodded. The kids adjusted their pillows.

Arlo said, “Read, Dad.”

He began, “Mr. Trout, Buzzardville’s undertaker, was the richest man in town…”

Devon asked, “What’s an undertaker?”

Arlo shushed her. He whispered, “He buries dead people.”

Jonathan waited for his kids to settle. When they nodded, he continued. “The town’s citizens found that mysterious, since they were a healthy lot. Few were sick. Fewer died. Many passed long after celebrating more than a century of life.”

“Wow!”

“That’s old!”

Jonathan continued, “Seeking to learn a trade, local men often asked Mr. Trout for work. Waving a boney finger and shouting, he turned them away. ‘We’re not hiring.’ No one worked for Mr. Trout.

“Truth be told, no one knew Mr. Trout. He kept to himself. He was rich and very private. The saying in town went, ‘If you can’t take it with you, leave it with Trout…’”

Devon yawned.

“People began to suspect something was wrong. Rumors spread of shadowy figures roaming the cemetery in the moonlight. They didn’t know Mr. Trout secretly employed unpaid help recruited from the dearly departed.”

A noise made Jonathan look to the door. The cat stood and stared. Its whiskers twitched.

Jonathan said, “Did you hear that?”

The cat jumped down and slipped under Devon’s bed.

Arlo said, “Cal did. What was it?”

The lights went out. Devon squeaked out a little scream.

Jonathan said, “Don’t know. Stay here.” He left the room, shutting the door behind him.

From the hallway, he saw light moving erratically in the living room. ‘Someone’s waving a flashlight…’ Looking for a weapon, he grabbed an umbrella from a closet hook.

The light went out. ‘They know I’m here…’ Moonlight seeped through the window blinds. Jonathan let his eyes adjust. Stealthily, he entered the living room.

“Who’s there!?” he called out.

A chuckle, sounding like sandpaper on wood came from the kitchen.

Jonathan grabbed the fireplace poker.

“Gotcha!” yelled a voice from behind him. Jonathan jumped and turned, swinging the poker as he fell.

The dark figure towered over Jonathan, its arms stretched to the ceiling. Its laugh turned to coughing. It doubled over and collapsed onto the couch. The whole house shook at the impact. The monster chuckled and sighed.

Jonathan scrambled up and lit a lamp. The monster, half Sasquatch, half golem, with an outsized head and bugged eyes smiled at him from the couch.

He couldn’t believe it. “Boogie!”

The monster stood and pointed. “Little Jon!”

Both laughing, they fell into a warm embrace.

Jonathan said, “I can’t believe it. You got me…! Like you always did.”

“You disappeared! Looked forever! Finally found you and was in the neighborhood…” Lithe as a cat, the monster leaped to the ceiling. He clung there for a moment, and dropped to the floor, barely making a thump. “…Thought I’d drop in.”

Jonathan shook his head at this turn of events. “You crack me up. Always!”

“You’ve changed… Yeah, I stopped by your old place. Empty! How long has it been?”

“A long time. Twenty years…? Have kids of my own, now.”

Boogie said, “Now that’s scary!”

Jonathan chuckled.

Boogie said, “Time passes. Hardly recognized you.”

Arlo and Devon stood in the doorway eyeing Boogie warily.

Jonathan saw them. “It’s alright.” He waved them over and hugged them close.

Arlo said, “What’s going on, Dad?”

“Kids, this is Boogie. My monster under the bed. Haven’t seen him since I was your age.”

The monster said, “Remember this…?” He thrust his hands at Jonathan. “BOO!”

The kids flinched while Jonathan and the monster broke up laughing.

Devon stepped up to Boogie. “You’re scary.”

With a maniacal grin and pointing at her face, he said, “No, I’m not. You are.”

She swatted his hand away.

Arlo and Jonathan laughed and applauded while a pouting Boogie kissed his finger. He turned to Arlo and Jonathan.

“How about this…” He danced around grotesquely, his limbs flailing like giant noodles.

Weak from laughter, Jonathan said, “I remember…!”

Never seeing their father like this, the kids looked on in awe.

Boogie said, “We go way back. Known your dad since he was knee high to a lawn gnome.”

Arlo said, “Really?”

“Oh, the stories I could tell…”

Jonathan murmured, “But you won’t.”

The kids asked, “Why? What?”

Arlo approached Boogie. “Tell us, Mr. Boogie. Please?”

Boogie looked to Jonathan who nodded.

“Okay… Have time for one…”

The kids stared.

“Once, I got your dad sleepwalking and got him to jump off the roof of the house.”

Eyes wide and mouths open, they cringed.

Devon wailed, “No!”

“You’re kidding!”

“True story!”

Jonathan said, “It wasn’t actually off the roof. But I thought so. Was only my bed.”

Boogie chuckled, “Using a pillowcase for a parachute.”

The kids cracked up.

Jonathan slapped his forehead. “What a doofus. Thirsty? Can I get you anything?”

“Thanks, but no. Have an appointment I need to keep. Great catching up though…”

“Been too long.”

Arlo stepped forward to shake hands. “Is Boogie your real name?”

“Well, that’s what your dad calls me. Real name is Edwin. Edwin Greet.”

Jonathan looked stunned. “You’re kidding! You? Wrote those stories? We were reading…”

Smiling, Boogie nodded. Jonathan struggled to comprehend.

Boogie bowed to Arlo and Devon. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, kids. Treat your dad nice, okay?”

Nodding, they said, “Okay…”

Devon stepped toward Boogie and said, “You’re not so scary…”

He laughed. “I have my days…”

Jonathan and Boogie slapped each other’s backs as they went to the door.

“Great seeing you, Boog. Thanks for coming by… Amazing…”

“I’ll see you again…” After a fist bump, Boogie turned and left.

Jonathan shut the door and announced, “Bedtime!”

“What about our story?”

“Meeting boogieman wasn’t enough scary for one night? Save it for tomorrow.”

Arlo said, “Pretty cool pal, Dad.”

Jonathan stopped. “We weren’t exactly pals. He’d scare the wits out of me. But over time, we did become friends… Now scoot!”

Yelling, the kids raced to their room and slipped into bed. Jonathan tucked them in and shut the light.

“Goodnight, cherubs. No nightmares, now. You promised…”

They said, “G’night, Dad.”

Standing in the gloom, Jonathan watched out the front window. A cloud passed over the moon.

“Boo… Unbelievable…”