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By michael ryan Date: 2002 Mar 21 Comment on this Work [[2002.03.21.11.58.22471]] |
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The Bogeyman -by M.Ryan It is Halloween next Tuesday. I can always gauge how close this particular holiday is by the increase in the midnight visits of my two boys. It never fails. A little too much Blairwitch Project and Scream on TV. And there is always the "Tales From The Crypt" marathon on the Sci-Fi Channel. In any event, it inevitably proves too much for Jake and Sean, who are only 6 and 10 respectively. Like clockwork, starting about two weeks before the big, trick or treat extravaganza, in the middle of the night, each would make his way to my bed and seek refuge from the Bogeyman in my arms. Maybe Jake had seen something under his bed. Or Sean's soccer jacket, hanging in the closet, suddenly transformed into a faceless, bloodthirsty creature. No matter. They were still young enough that they believed I could protect them from anything - - monsters, werewolves, vampires. My bed was like a holy sanctuary, where the evil dared not tread. I glance over at my alarm clock and see that it is almost midnight. And no sign of the boys yet. It is just as well. I can sense that it is going to be one of those nights when I struggle with my own demons. When the Bogeyman would visit me again. I close my eyes tightly and wish the memories away. But, to no avail. Sometimes I still freeze when my lover touches me. Maybe it's the time of night, the way I am lying in bed or perhaps just the way a hand brushes against me that triggers the fear and takes me back. But, whatever the cause, the flashbacks are all too real. I was only thirteen when he first came to my bed. I awoke instantly as he caressed my thigh. He thought I was still asleep and I did nothing to dissuade him of that notion. I was convinced he would kill me if he knew I was awake. So, I just lay there and let him touch me. He was so close I could smell the dinner that was still on his breath, which would quicken as he became aroused. My own breathing seemed to have stopped completely as I play dead until he was finished. These nocturnal visits continued for months. It got so I knew every sound my bedroom could make. The twist of the doorknob, the creak of a floorboard. I lay there in terror as I heard him creep toward me. Like a creature from under the bed, he was coming to devour my soul. Sometimes I would get lucky. I would pretend to talk in my sleep or roll over as if on the verge of waking up and he would retreat. Mercifully, I would be left alone, to count the hours until morning came. But, most nights I wasn't so fortunate. The visits stopped as suddenly as they had started. I never really understood why. I started to convince myself that it had never really happened. It had all been just a bad dream. But, until I left that house, I don't think I ever slept through the night. Jake's footsteps on the hardwood floor snatch me back into the present. Back to my sleigh bed which doubles as a clubhouse for little boys, where girls and bad dreams are strictly forbidden. As I envelop Jake in my arms and chase the Bogeyman away, I wonder how my boys would feel if they knew how afraid their father really was, especially at night. And, as I close my eyes, I wonder how I will protect them from the real monsters. |