Frederic

Reads: 277  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 1

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
A little boy is going to bed when he hears noises coming from his closet.
I'm thinking of taking this story and expanding it into a feature-length movie. I'm not sure yet. Let me know what you think.

Submitted: November 10, 2008

A A A | A A A

Submitted: November 10, 2008

A A A

A A A


I met a new friend the other day.  I was in my bed, and I heard a voice in my closet.  At first, it sounded like someone mumbling.  Talking to himself, I suppose.  I couldn’t make out any of the words.  The voice sounded deep, and a little scratchy.

 

The clock said it was 1:37 a.m.  I turned on my bedside lamp, and sat up.  The voice continued for a moment, then stopped abruptly, as if interrupted.

 

It spoke up. Pardon me.  I didn’t mean to wake you.  The tone was friendly, but still somewhat hushed.

 

“Who are you?” I asked.

 

You may call me Frederic, if you like.

 

“Hello, Frederic,” I replied.  “I’m Thomas.”

 

How old are you, Thomas?

 

“Seven.”

 

Would you like to be my friend, Thomas?

 

“Yes.”

 

Come to the closet.

 

I got out of bed.  I put on my Power Ranger slippers, and I walked toward the closet.  When I got to the closet door, it creaked open just the tiniest little bit, and Frederic began whispering to me.  I listened very carefully.

 

Have you got that?” he asked.

 

I nodded fervently.  I couldn’t see his face in the darkness of the closet, but I knew he was smiling his approval.

 

I quietly opened my bedroom door, and sneaked out of my room, down the hall, and into the kitchen.  When my business in the kitchen was done, I went to my parents’ bedroom.  I opened the door ever so slowly.  My mother woke up as I approached her side of the bed.

 

“Tommy?”  She squinted her eyes at me.  “What’s wrong, baby?”

 

I didn’t say a word.  My mother saw that my right hand was behind my back.  She asked what I had in that hand.  I slowly took my hand from behind my back, revealing the 3-inch-long blade that I had taken from the kitchen.

 

A few minutes later, I returned to my bedroom, my pajamas stained with my parents’ blood.  I approached the closet door.

 

I’m proud of you, Thomas,” Frederic said.  A long, black hand extended from the closet and patted my head. Very proud, indeed.


© Copyright 2019 Nightmareality. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:

Comments

avatar

Author
Reply