by Jeff Turner



JULY 24, 1995 -- 12:30 A.M. This is my first journal entry in approximately six years. I'm not sure what is going on, but I think it might be happening again. First, let me give you some information about myself. I'm male, twenty-seven years old, and I've been out of the mental institution for seven years now. My name is David Kever. I live in the Big Apple, New York City, and have a good job as a sales consultant at an advertising company. I've decided that if it's going to start again, I should document it.

This is the story so far. The nightmares began when I was around eight. I couldn't remember them at first, but I do remember waking up screaming, "The man in the closet!" My parents would try to comfort me, but to no avail. After about three weeks of these nightmares, my parents decided to take me to a child psychologist. He asked the standard questions about if I had seen anything on TV or perhaps read something about a man in a closet. I told him I hadn't. He gave my mom some pills to give to me before I went to bed every night. The nightmares ceased for about a week and a half. Then I had another nightmare. I remember this one, though. I remember every detail to this day, and until the day I die.

I had just fallen asleep when I heard a noise coming from my closet. I opened my eyes and looked at my closet from across the room. There was a very dim light showing through the crack between the door and the floor. Just enough light to see the shadow of someone standing behind the door. I screamed, but no sound came out. The door slowly opened, but then the light disappeared. I was in darkness and my closet door had just opened on its own.

I quickly grasped Teddy, my teddy bear, and reached to turn on the light. I flipped the switch to turn on the light, and there he... it was. I will never forget the way he looked, or looked at me. His face was pale, no, white, utterly white. His face must have been at least two feet long, and that is not an exaggeration. His nose was long and pointy, his blue hair a foot high in a sort of style where the hair on the side of his head was swept up and turned into a giant curl on top. His eyes were red in the middle and blue on the side. The thing that I remember the clearest was his maniacal grin. It must have taken up half his face. His teeth were inches long and sharp. Then it spoke.

"Davie...," it said in its deep, scratchy voice. "You're not scared, are you? Teddy will protect you, right?"

He grabbed Teddy, and that's when I saw his hand. It was white just like his face and had long slender fingers with about two inches of white nail at the end of them. He pulled Teddy close to his face... and opened his mouth so wide that his eyes and chin could not be seen. All I could see was his blue hair and giant mouth. He threw Teddy in his mouth and closed it. When his face was visible again, it wasn't his. It was a distorted version of Teddy's, except in the basic design, the big hair, the large mouth, etc.

This would be enough to make any well-adjusted adult lose it. Imagine what it did to an eight-year-old kid! I screamed, loud. The next thing I know my parents are hugging me and telling me that everything was going to be alright.

But as they were hugging me I could see Teddy sitting on my table, right by the lamp. He now had red and blue eyes.


* * *


I just had occasional nightmares for awhile. I decided that this thing needed a name, so I named it after every child's fear, the Bogeyman. It got worse again when I was ten. I dreamt that I had heard a noise in my closet and ran out of the room to my parents' room. Between our rooms was a bathroom. When I passed the bathroom I felt an eerie dread and suddenly stopped moving. I was still running, but in place. I was slowly being pulled into the bathroom by an unknown force. I looked into the bathroom but saw nothing. Just as I entered the bathroom I would wake up, in the bathroom, screaming. We went to another psychologist with the same results. More questions, more pills, no solution. A month later the dreams started again. Always exactly the same, until I was fourteen.

I had just had my fourteenth birthday two days ago and was happy that I seemed to be growing up. I hadn't dreamt of Bogeyman in almost two weeks and was very happy about it. Unfortunately it wasn't to last. I dreamt the same thing I always did, except for the end. At the end when I looked into the bathroom, I saw it again. I saw the Bogeyman. He grabbed me, took one of his nails and ripped into my cheek. Blood started to come out of the wound and trickle down my nose. He then threw me out of the bathroom and against the window opposite the bathroom. It broke and I crashed out of the second story window and onto the ground below. My parents came running out after me and called the ambulance.

That's when I entered the mental institution. My parents told me that there were doctors there that could help me. When they brought me in after the accident I was near hysteria. Doctors looked at my scarred back (it took thirty stitches for them to get my back sewn up after I had hit the window and fallen to the ground). I had broken my arm. They also studied the scratch on my cheek and couldn't figure out how I got that since I fell out of the window back-first. The doctors said that I had some deep-rooted anger towards myself, and the reason I "invented" this Bogeyman was to punish myself. The doctors in the mental institution took care of me for the rest of my childhood.

As I said, I was released when I was twenty-one and everything was going great... until tonight. I dreamt of... it... again. Bogeyman appeared to me above my bed, and tried to grab me. I woke up screaming for the first time in over ten years. It might be happening again. I know I sound crazy, and I might be, but it feels real, damn real.


* * *


JULY 29, 1995 -- 5:30 P.M. I feel like Im going crazy. Over the past five days Ive watched myself very closely to make sure that I don't lose it. So far, I've had dreams that the Bogeyman was looking at me from in the TV, in the computer, and I swear on my life that I saw him out of the corner of my eye when I was driving home from work. Am I losing it?


* * *


JULY 30, 1995 -- 11:48 P.M. I just woke up from the worst dream to date, I thought it had killed me. One of two things are happening: Either I've totally lost my mind, which means that this Bogeyman stuff is only in my head, or it is real and this is really happening. The truly scary thing is, if Bogeyman can do this to one person, he can do it to another and another. For everyone's sake, I hope that this is only in my mind, because if it isn't... you could be next.... *


Story copyright © 1995 Jeff Turner <>.

Artwork copyright ©1995 Andrew G. McCann <>.


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