I Found the Boogeyman Under My Brother's Crib

The Boogeyman is waiting to tuck you in…

Rachel's parents have a simple rule: five hours of sleep. No more, no less.

But after six months of this "simple" schedule, Rachel's exhausted mind plays tricks on her. She sees things that can't be real.

Like the Boogeyman in her little brother's room.

When no one believes her, Rachel takes matters into her own hands. But her sleep-deprived state blurs the line between reality and nightmare. Is the grotesque figure with too many teeth just a hallucination? Or is there something sinister lurking in the shadows?

A gripping tale of family expectations and the horrors that hide in plain sight, from Ben Farthing, the “King of Creepy” (MJ Mars, author of The Suffering).

Chapter One
I heard my little brother cry in his nursery. A stranger laughed in response.
I leapt out of bed without thinking.
Exhaustion made trusting my senses tricky. But if I’d really heard that vindictive laugh then I needed to get to my brother.
I pulled open my door, aware that I was sacrificing at least a few minutes of the precious sleep I was allowed.
Bennet cried again. He was almost two, and I’d spent so much time with him this summer break that I instantly recognized this was a cry of either fear or pain. At least, I thought I did. It was so hard to be sure of assumptions like this that I had to double-check before I acted on them. Otherwise, I'd end up with another lecture from Mom and Dad about Making Good Decisions.
The hallway was dark except for a sliver of light from a nightlight in the hall bathroom. Mom and Dad's door was cracked. It was even darker in there.
I rushed to Bennet’s room, between mine and my parents’. Through his cries, I listened to hear that stranger’s laugh again. It had been male, raspy, and unkind. The sound of a bully closing in on prey.
Had I dreamed it?
It was hard to tell, lately.
I flipped Bennet’s light switch, connected to an outlet which powered a floor lamp. The lamp didn't turn on.
“Bennet,” I whispered.
His crying stopped. He only knew a few words, but he did have a unique way of saying my name, Rachel. I heard it now in response to my whisper, a desperate, begging little voice. “Tico!”
I moved through the dark toward my brother.
A heavy, grunting breath split the air between us. I froze.
“Dad?” I asked the dark space before me. “Are you in here?”
I couldn't imagine why Dad would be laughing so meanly at his little boy, but the fact that I couldn't imagine why didn't mean much. I wasn’t living up to our family standards, and it was taking its toll on my mind.
On the other hand, he did occasionally sleepwalk.
Bennet's crib thumped as if the whole thing had lifted up and then struck the wood floor.
Bennet wailed.
“Dad?” I asked again. “Why aren’t you picking him up? Are you awake?”
No answer.
My little brother again called for me. “Tico, up me!” He’d be raising his arms to be picked up, flexing his little fingers.
My heart broke for him. I stepped forward in the dark room. I reached up to turn on the ceiling light which Mom had installed when we moved in.
As my fingers found the metal chain, a gritty chuckle again came from next to Bennet’s crib, directly in front of me.
I wasn’t imagining it. Someone was in here with me, and it didn’t sound like Dad.
I hesitated to pull the chain and click on the light. That’s how deeply my parents had ingrained in me that between the hours of eleven and four, we slept, and we did not turn on the light.
But then someone exhaled onto my face. Warm, moist air splashing against my eyes to blossom down my cheeks and up my brow.
I jumped back. The overhead light’s chain caught between my fingers as I tripped. The light flashed on for a brief moment before my hand slipped free.
In that light, where I’d thought Dad might be sleepwalking, I saw a mouth.
Gray, mottled lips over rotting but perfectly straight teeth. The edges of the mouth curled up into a stiff smile. And around the mouth, as if they were outlining a clownish smile, were more teeth sticking through skin. Incisors pierced an upper lip. Molars stuck through cheeks. Bottom teeth stuck through the gray skin of a chin. Crusty blood circled each wound. Dried pus marked an infection.
This was all my eyes took in before the momentum of my fall made the chain slip from my fingers and the light snapped back off, returning the room to darkness.