It's time for the WEP Halloween Challenge! This challenge is all about Childhood Frights vs. Adult Fears. The goal is to show how a childhood fear can turn into an adult one, whether real or imagined.
To start the fun you can:
1. share a favorite frightening tale, movie, novel, photograph or painting that will leave us quaking in our boots
2. in a short paragraph describe how it scared you, and why it did and or still does today
3. then you can:
a. submit your own scary piece, 1000 words or less, in any format or
b. share a photograph or painting that captures the horror you've felt.
Not many movies scare me, but one that I watched recently certainly had me on edge the whole way through.
The Babadook kept me uncomfortable. I don't want to give too much away for those who haven't seen it, but I started out worrying that the little boy was going to hurt himself or someone else. He insists he sees this monster that no one else can see, and he acts out in frightening ways. That fear switches when his mom visibly starts to lose her mind, and I spent the rest of the movie terrified that she was going to hurt her son. The tension was killer, and I think the fact that I have kids of my own made it more intense. The atmosphere of the movie was also perfect for the story it was telling.
Okay, on to the second part of the challenge. I hope you enjoy this little piece of flash fiction I wrote! Or, more accurately, I hope it scares the daylights out of you. I'm not a horror writer, but I did my best.
Boogeyman
The
boogeyman is real, and he’s standing outside my house.
Creak! Creak!
Creak! The wood protests as the stranger paces back
and forth on our porch. The sound sends
chills down my spine.
Tap. Tap.
Tap. He raps on the door each time he passes.
“Daddy,
why is he doing that?” Emily whispers in my ear. Her thin arms are wrapped around my neck, and
she’s trembling so hard she can barely hold on.
“I
don’t know, sweetheart.” I hold her
close as I’m transported back in time to the days of my childhood when I feared
the boogeyman was coming for me. I used
to cling to my mother and father the exact same way. Now I’m supposed to be the protector, and I
can’t escape the fear that I’m going to fail.
This
faceless stalker has been after my family for weeks. It started with notes slipped into the
mailbox and under the door. The messages
were only vaguely menacing in the beginning.
“I’ve seen you around.” “You have
a lovely family.” Things that seemed
creepy mostly due to the anonymity of them. They soon grew more aggressive. “I’ll make you scream.” “I want to know your family from the inside
out.”
The
police didn’t seem all that concerned.
“It’s probably just a prank,” the officer told me. “There’s no specific threat, so there’s only
so much we can do.”
They
might believe the disemboweled cat I found on my porch when I got home from
work today is a more tangible threat, but I have yet to report it.
I
should have reported it.
Now
I feel helpless. I am a child all over again. My older sister Courtney used to tell me
horror stories about the boogeyman who came in the night to collect frightened
children. “Mark, I know that you broke
my roller skates,” she said. “You know
what that means. The boogeyman is going
to come get you.” Or “Mark, you threw
your peas in the trash and told Mom you ate them. You know what that means, don’t you?”
The
things I told myself as a trembling child, huddled in the dark, come right back
to me. The boogeyman is coming to get you.
You deserve all the bad things he’s going to do to you. Mom and Dad are upset, and they won’t protect
you.
What did I do wrong now? How did I bring this upon my family?
The
thought is ludicrous, of course, but it burrows its way under my skin and makes
a home there.
Tap. Tap.
Tap.
“Hello. 911?
Yes, there’s someone outside our house, and they’re threatening
us!” My wife Caroline’s voice is higher
in pitch than normal, but she’s holding herself together. She crouches down beside us, and Emily lets
go of me to cling to her instead.
I
stand and scan the area. There are no
guns in the house, but I need to find some way of defending us. That’s my job. If I can’t protect my family, what good am I?
I
find my old baseball bat in a closet and go to stand near the door. All the while, I’m running through possible
courses of action. Should we go out the
back door, or are we safer here? Should
we hole up in a hidden room? That might
eliminate our hope of escaping. So many
options, and none of them feel right.
There’s too much uncertainty. One
wrong decision and I doom us all.
As
a child, I felt certain that my parents could protect me from anything. Now I wish that fiction had been true. I wish I could live up to it.
Tap. Tap.
Tap.
“Mommy!” Emily is sobbing even harder.
Caroline
shushes her softly, then says something to the operator.
Creak. Creak.
Creak.
As
the dark-clothed boogeyman passes the window, I see the glint of some kind of
weapon. Though I don’t know what it is,
my heart speeds up even more at the sight of it.
I
take a deep breath. My fingernails dig
into the wood of the bat. My breaths
come shallow and quick.
Tap. Tap.
Tap.
“It’s
going to be just fine.” I don’t know if
the words are meant more for them or for me.
It doesn’t matter, because they have no substance. They’re nothing but tissue paper. Pleasant enough at first glance, but
translucent and easily shredded.
Creak. Creak.
Creak.
“Please
tell them to hurry,” Caroline begs.
Another
glint seen through the window.
Tap. Tap.
Tap.
My
heart pounds in my ears. I wish it were
loud enough to drown out all the other sounds.
I wish I were brave enough to go out there and put a stop to the
nightmare. I wish I had someone to
comfort me and convince me everything will be all right.
Creak. Creak.
Creak.
I’m
losing my mind. I imagine my family
being torn to pieces. I can see the
blood on the floor. If that happens,
it’ll be my fault. My failure.
Tap! Tap!
Tap!
Tap! Tap!
Tap!
The
change in pattern jars me. That isn’t good. Not good at all.
TAP! TAP!
TAP!
“Daddy! Make it stop!” Emily screams.
TAP! TAP!
TAP!
I
have to do something. I can’t let it end
like this.
Then
I hear the sirens. The red and blue
flashing lights filter in through the curtains. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.
The
sound of pounding footsteps tells me our terrorizer has fled.
“It’s
okay,” I say, dropping the bat and running to embrace my family. “We’re fine.
It’s over.”
I
don’t know how much time passes, but I haven’t yet let go of my wife and daughter. One of the officers is standing in our living
room, and I must still be out of it, because I don’t recall letting him in.
“I’m
sorry, Mr. Hanson. The guy got away, but
we’ll do what we can to protect your family.”
It
isn’t over after all.
Word Count 997/FCA
