Like a lot of children, the Boogieman was my very first childhood fear. I couldn’t have been more than five, when the neighborhood bully told me he saw the Boogieman hiding in the bushes. He loved to eat little girls and sometimes little boys, and if I didn’t watch out, he would grab me.
The bully told me he had a secret, but he would only tell me if I promised not to say anything to anyone. The Boogieman would know if I told anyone and he would come and get me —and him, too, for sharing the secret. I nodded my head —I was afraid, but I wanted to hear what the secret was.
He said the Boogieman lived in the ground. He loved peeking up through the sidewalk cracks, watching for a little girl to walk by, who wasn’t paying attention. Then he would grab her leg and pull her down through the crack and cook her for dinner.
I ran home across the grass which was two houses away as fast as I could,. I was terrified. All the way, I watched the bushes and stayed away from the sidewalk.
The next day, I was afraid to go outside. I was even afraid to sleep the night before. I only picked at breakfast, lunch, and supper, because it made me wonder whether the Boogieman might be 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 Boogieman. Mama was quiet, thinking. Then she hugged me. “Oh THAT Boogieman. Honey, I knew him when I was a little girl. The Boogieman isn’t bad. He’s just lonely. It hurts him to know children are afraid of him. That boy just wanted to frighten you.
I’ll tell you what. Tomorrow, we’ll set a place at the table for the Boogieman and invite him to eat with us. We’ll write him a note and leave it on the front porch. Once you meet him, I know you won’t be afraid of him anymore –-he’s a really nice guy who’s only looking for friends.”
“Okay.” I used my crayons and Mama helped me write the note. Then she took it downstairs so Daddy could put it on the porch for the Boogieman.
It was so long ago that I don’t remember how many times we set a place at the table for him. Obviously, he never came for dinner, but Mama said he was probably busy making new friends.
To The Boogieman
I used to be afraid of you.
I heard you eat up little boys.
I didn't want the lights turned out
and I was scared to play with toys.
Then Mommy asked you over.
She told me you're just sad
you have no one to play with
and you aren't really bad.
You never come to dinner.
We still set a place for you,
a plate, a spoon, a glass for milk,
just in case you do.
I wasn’t afraid of him anymore …
In my next life, I want YOU for my mommy. ;-)
The terrors of childhood. I remember them well. Sometimes the fear was unbearable. I had a little stuffed dog, Jack, that I would hold to me and squeeze the stuffing out of until I finally fell asleep. I wonder what children without stuffed animals do to keep the boogieman away?