Here's a short story I wrote, boredom = time to mess around = poems/short stories (in my case)
A DAY IN THE LIFE OF THE BOOGEYMAN
Fear is an art, one can say it's beautiful. How people can go from playful to that chilling silence within, hands and feet trembling, with our minds on edge knowing we are an occurrence away from freaking out.
It's that hot to cold and back to hot that amazes me, it's almost like brush strokes of a veteran artist, painting contrast, Rythm and irony into his canvas. I live off that, no one scares better than kids...I'm that evil.
You would find me under beds, inside closets..ohh the Attic, my favorite spot. Thanks trill when mommy asked them to get papers from the attic. Finally a chance to feed my hunger. I'm very picky, so id cook the fear myself.
She's coming down the stairs, wearing her white pijamas, she reaches for the light switch but my thumb is pressed on it, it's not gonna budge one bit, we spirits can be very strong when we want to be. She walk right trough me and I allow it. Searching trough drawers on a dusty desk for a flash light. Waving my hands over the light's path occasionally gives it's a flickering effect.
It's darn hardwork but it's fun, on every flash I change my form making my shadow appear as terrifying monsters against the fluorescent light. Watching her scream and drop the torch running back upstairs to cling unto mummy was satisfying. The bogey man scores on again, it wouldn't be so but still a while before I thirst again and find myself in another kid's closet or under your bed.
