A Friend

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
I had a friend when I was small. He lived under my bed and we played a lot. Can you guess his name?

Submitted: June 17, 2016

A A A | A A A

Submitted: June 17, 2016



When I was a little kid, my parents never payed attention to me. It’s not like that’s a big problem. However, I felt lonely. I always made drawings where me and my parents were having fun, but that wasn’t true. Loneliness was always around the corner, staring at me with its cold eyes.

Sometimes, the stress got to dad, and then he would hit and scream at me. My mom sometimes said it would’ve been better if I wasn’t born.

At first, invisible claws would tear at my heart and I would bleed. Soon enough, I got used to the pain and I didn’t feel anything.

I didn’t have any friends at school either. I was lonely, sad and broken.

The world seemed like a black and white movie to me. Sometimes, this colorless world would show a little red, and that was enough.

Every day I was getting sadder and more broken. My parents may have hurt me, but I didn’t hate them. However, I didn’t love them either. My classmates said how much they loved their parents, how much they cared for them, and couldn’t wait to hug them. I couldn’t understand. I forgot how to love ones parents.

I was broken, but I had a friend. He would listen when I talked, he would understand when no one else would. I felt safe and warm in his embrace. He smelled like candy and flowers.

His smile was filled with kindness and warmth. I never saw his eyes though. His long black hair served as a veil to hide away his eyes.

His everything was kind, and he was like a sun to me. Yet, one thing about him sent shivers down my spine. He wore black leather gloves, that’s not the scary part. Underneath the gloves were long, old and chipped nails. Whenever he would shake my hand and hug me, those cat claws would dig into my skin.

Nevertheless, I still loved him and trusted my life to him.

When I turned thirteen, I thought he would come to congratulate me, but he didn’t. I waited and waited, he never came.

He didn’t come to see me later in my life. I would never feel his large hands around me and I would never hear his light snoring next to my ear.

Currently I’m sixteen years old, and here he is. In front of me, stands a man. He’s taller than me for about two inches. A black coat, black pants and a black hat. This time, the gloves weren’t there, and the hair on his face too. I could see his eyes.

They were a glowing green. When I looked at them, I could only think of some kind of green snake. Their beauty mesmerized me. Only a few seconds later, I saw the sick and evil intentions behind those eyes. Now I know why he hid them before. They would’ve scared me off.

The silence in the house and room crushed me. Just then, I realized, I’ve never asked that one important question.

“What’s your name?” I quietly said. Yes, after all these years, I’ve never known his name.

No answer followed. Cold sweat dripped down my forehead making it glisten in the light of the single lamp on my table. The light breeze visited my bedroom and it played around with my curtains.

I waited for an answer and the longer I waited, the more unfamiliar that figure in front of me became. He seemed to grow more distant and somehow…scarier?

The clock seemed louder than before and it started to echo in my ears.

My eyes never left his face. It was as if I couldn’t look at anything other than him.

“Are you going to answer my question before I turn into a grandma and die?” I tried to hide my nervousness and anxiety with a joke, but I suppose I failed.

A wide grin that showed the perfect white teeth spread on his face.

My heartbeat sped up and I started to back up against the wall. Feeling trapped and defenseless, tears streamed down my face. I gasped for air and tried to calm down, as he seemed to approach me.

His nails grew and became more and more cat like. The last words I heard before I fell into a void of nothingness were:

“My name is Boogieman.”

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