Young Thompson Davis was lying in his little bed with the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles sheets pulled midway up his chest. His mother had just tucked him in and left. Now the room was quiet, still, dark, and scary to the five-year-old. There was very little illumination in the room aside from the multicolored night-light. Thompson looked at it as it cycled its colors; blue, red, yellow, green, purple, teal, and back to blue.

Looking at the light made him feel safer. If anything came from his closet he would see it and scream. Either the boogeyman would flee when it knew his parents were coming, or it would get beaten up by his father. Yes, surely his dad could drive away the mean creature of the closet.

He hadn’t known about the boogeyman until today. A kid in his kindergarten class told him about the monster that kidnapped children when they were in bed. Charlie, the boy who had told him, said the boogeyman came from the closet at night. Terrified, Thompson had told his dad about the boogeyman. His brave father opened the closet, Thompson had been in tears, afraid his father would get ****** into the closet and disappear forever.

When nothing happened, his father had beckoned him closer. The closet was empty, aside from clothing and toys. But Charlie had said the boogeyman only came out during the night. Perhaps he teleported from wherever he came from and took the children back with him. Yes, that had to be it.

So Thompson was going to stay up all night and watch for the boogeyman. He had put his army of GI Joe soldiers in front of the door. Perhaps the boogeyman’s portal would bring them to life and they would defend him.

It had barely reached nine when Thompson’s eyes drooped under the weight of sleepiness. He was close to falling asleep, his own soft breathing was a comfort. His bed was comfortable, blanket warm and cozy. He could feel slumber overcome him.

His eyes snapped open. Movement of the closet door hadn’t alerted him, nor was the sound of gunfire from the miniature army that aroused him. It was a breeze behind him. Had his mom forgotten to close the window? That didn’t seem like her. But then again the window wasn’t above the bed so it could be that. He turned thinking it might just be a dream.

When he saw what had caused the draft he prayed he was dreaming. His eyes landed on the face of a pale man. Both eyes were missing, into which was an inky blackness that reminded him of the night sky, never-ending. A live worm dangled from his half open mouth, wriggling and squirming. No teeth seemed to be in the man’s mouth, or perhaps they were so rotten he just couldn’t see them.

A smell reached his nose. So putrid it turned Thompson’s stomach, threatening to send up the corn dogs and macaroni and cheese he had eaten for dinner. It reminded him of the smell his hands had after touching a fish he caught with his dad last weekend, only a thousand times worse.

A hand, cold and clammy slammed fiercely over his mouth muffling the scream he made in an attempt to alarm his parents. They were on the other end of the hall, the noise did not reach them. He attempted to lift the hand cupped over his mouth, but it would not be moved. Tears of fear poured down the young boy’s face. He froze when something crawled from a hole of the man’s eye. A snake, almost as dark as the night, slithered from one eye socket, taking only a brief second to look at the boy, and into the other eye. A trail of urine ran down Thompson’s leg. He tried to bite, claw, do something, anything to get free, but it all proved pointless against the boogeyman. He was too strong for the five-year-old to compete with.

The other hand, just as cold and slimy as the one clasped over his mouth, hooked around his body and dragged him for his bed into darkness.