Man In The Closet

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
Short horror story

Length: Short-Medium

Submitted: July 10, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: July 10, 2012




 Little kids, eh you know how they are, either scared of nothing, or scared of everything. I was scared of nothing, until I saw the man in the bathroom closet. I remember that day, it’s something I can’t seem to rid my memory of. I was in the tub like any young child, playing with my little bathtub toys, washing them off when I got suds on them. I made my mom leave the bathroom, insisting that I was old enough to be alone, I was six.



She left, but then I looked over, I had seen that she didn’t shut the bathroom closet door. It was slightly open and it didn’t bother me, well, until I saw, him.

He was crouched in the back of my closet. Head tilted, crooked grin, his eyes never moved. I panicked, like anyone would’ve and my mom came running in, saying that I had seen nothing and I couldn’t handle being alone.


I never saw the man again, until I was 11. It had become a routine for me to check the closet and make sure he wasn’t there, it was all just my imagination I guess. Washing my face, I felt a drip fall down on me, which was odd because I couldn’t find the source of it.

I laughed out loud..a forced “ha” and continued washing my hair, “heh” I heard from somewhere close, somewhere really close, like in the same room as me. I ripped open the shower curtain and searched in every direction. Left, right, behind me, in front of me… Up.


There he was. Not in the closet, but in the vent of the bathroom fan, face pressed against the plastic, eyes focused on mine. We looked at eachother.

For awhile actually.


 I put my towel on and walked out, I was seriously imagining things.


Just this year when I turned fourteen, he left the vent, and sat in the corner of my shower. I don’t mind it anymore really, because we have an agreement. He won’t touch me, if I don’t tell people he’s there.

I wash my body and he sits, bare in the corner. His eyes, crazily moving up and down my body over and over as I go through my routine.

 He likes to listen to me talk, he says i sound so innocent, he says it can be part of the agreement, me talk while I’m taking my shower. He says a lot of things that make me feel weird on the inside, like when he has his the fetish of me talking.

 He calls me names and tells me he wants to come closer, but I remind him of our agreement, and he goes back to staring.


At least I know I’m not the only one who’s visited and watched, because he’s also told me for every child,



There’s a man in the bathroom closet.

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