My Biggest Childhood Fear

The Boogeyman

When I was a child, I remember my biggest fear was the Boogeyman. Any others I might have had were small in comparison and not even worth mentioning.

I couldn’t have been more than five, when Robby, the neighborhood bully, told me he saw the Boogeyman hiding behind the bushes. He said the Boogeyman loved to eat little girls, but hardly ever little boys.  If I didn’t watch out, he was going to come after me.

Then Robby said he had a secret, but he would only tell me if I promised not to tell. The Boogeyman would know if I told anyone and he would come looking for me —and Robby, too, for sharing the secret with anyone.

I nodded my head —I was afraid, but I had to know the secret.

He said the boogeyman lived underground. He loved peeking up through the sidewalk cracks, hoping to find a little girl who wasn’t paying attention.  When he saw one, he grabbed her leg and pulled her down through the crack and cooked her for dinner.

I ran home across the grass as fast as I could, which was three houses away. I was terrified. All the way home, I watched the bushes and stayed away from the sidewalk.

The next day, I was afraid to go outside. I was also afraid to sleep the night before. I only picked at breakfast, lunch, and supper, because it made me wonder whether the Boogeyman was eating one of my friends at his table.

That night, when Mama tucked me in, she asked what was wrong. I told her I wasn’t allowed to tell, because something bad would happen.

She persisted, saying some secrets aren’t good secrets and the only way to know if it was a good or bad secret, was to tell someone who loves you.

So I told her what the bully said about the Boogeyman. Mama was quiet for a while, thinking. Then she hugged me.

“Oh THAT Boogeyman. Honey, I knew him when I was a little girl. The Boogeyman isn’t bad. He’s just lonely. It hurts his feelings when he hears children are afraid of him. Robby just wanted to frighten you.

I’ll tell you what. Tomorrow, we’ll set a place at the table for the Boogeyman and invite him to eat with us. We’ll write him a note and leave it under a rock on the sidewalk.”

“Okay.”

I used my crayons and Mama helped me write the note. Then she took it downstairs so Daddy could put it on the sidewalk for the Boogeyman.

It was so long ago that I don’t remember now how many times we set a place at the table for the Boogeyman. Obviously, he never came for dinner, but Mama said he was probably just busy making new friends.

I only knew I wasn’t afraid of him anymore.

Poet/Writer/Author of 5 books.
Quora Top Writer 2018.
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