Thursday, April 22, 2004

Last night blew
This is a good reason as why you shouldn't read a Stephen King short story before you go to bed.

I was reading, as I said, a Stephen King short story book entitled "Night Shift." I was having some good time reading it, just finishing a story about haunted machinery killing people. But the next story, I saw, was entitled "The Boogeyman." I should have stopped with the title.

Now before you start laughing at me for being scared at a myth used to scare children, this is not that story. This isin't "They Boogeyman is coming to get you," this is: "The Boogey man is going to watch over you as you slowy die, choking on your tounge from fright as your skin turned either pale white or charcoal black," kind of story.

The story starts off with a man going into a psychiatrist's office, where he says he killed his own kids. Then he goes into a flashback, telling the shrink what happened. How his three kids had said the same thing to him before they were killed. "Boogeyman, daddy, boogeyman." Then the man started having nighmares. Here's the last few paragraphs of the story:




"Mr. Billings, there is a great deal to talk about," Dr. Harper said after a pause. "I believe we can remove some of the guilt you've been carrying, but first you have to want to get rid of it."

"Don't you believe I do?" Billings cried, removing his arm from his eyes. They were red, raw, wounded.

"Not yet," Harper said quietly. "Tuesdays and Thursdays?"

After a long silence, Billings muttered, "Goddamn shrink. All right. All right."

"Make an appointment with the nurse, Mr. Billings. And have a good day."

Billings laughed emptily and walked out of the office quickly, without looking back.
The nurse's station was empty. A small sign on the desk blotter said: "Back in a Minute."

Billings turned and went back into the office. "Doctor, your nurse is-"
The room was empty.
But the closet door was open. Just a crack.

"So nice," the voice from the closet said. "So nice." The words sounded as if they might have come through a mouthful of rotted seaweed.

Billings stood rooted to the spot as the closet door swung open. He dimly felt warmth at his crotch as he wet himself.

"So nice," the boogeyman said as it shambled out.

It still helf its Dr. Harper mask in one rotted, spade-claw hand.




I must say, that's a hell of a creepy way to end a story.


To make a long story short, (too late, it seems now) I didn't get a wink of sleep last night.

It's just where I read the damn thing. In my bedroom. It wouldn't have been scary if I read it in school, but location is everything.
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