Boogeyman

Mythical And Paranormal Realm | Myths | Horror Stories | Scary Tales

Whether its an unsolved mystery, a popular misconception, or sometimes just a big hoax urban legends are an inevitable part of any culture. But, plenty of these classic myths are actually true — and the truth is often more ghastly and macabre than the fiction. Even more interesting is how some of these fables originated. Myths have to start somewhere, and oftentimes it’s a dark chapter in history or a strange effect of our own minds. Sometimes, the boogeyman is real. And, that face you saw in the bathroom mirror? You weren’t imagining it.
Here is one of the most popular urban legends still being told :-

It started with my 3 year old son screaming in his room in the middle of the night. When I came in to check on him he was in hysterics, crying about how the Boogeyman had frightened him. I let him sleep with my wife and I for the night, thinking it was just a bad dream. The next evening he didn’t want to sleep in his room, but I convinced him that the Boogey Man was just a figment of his imagination. However, I found myself rushing to console him at 2 AM after being awoken by his screams once more.

On the third night I set up a camcorder in his room, in order to show him that there was no monster. That evening there was no screaming and no crying. I was refreshed when I woke up in the morning after getting my first good night sleep in the past three days, although when I saw my son he seemed very fatigued. He didn’t put up his usual fuss when we got him ready for preschool so when my wife took him to day care and I decided to review the camera’s tape in order to find out if he had slept. I’ll never forget what I saw.

At around 2 AM while my son was asleep his closet door slowly creaked open and out of the shadows crept a pale veiny woman with long white hair, so bony you could see her spine protruding from her back when she turned away from the camera. He tried to scream as she reached her unnaturally large hands towards him, but her palm easily enveloped his head, muffling his cries.

She snatched him up with the ease that a person of her frame should not have had, then walked back into the closet only to return an hour later with what looked like a wriggling worm the size of a duffle bag that she then placed it in my son’s bed. Over the next 2 hours I watched it twist and writhe while it grew and mutated until it looked like my baby boy. I don’t know what that thing is that left with my wife this morning, but I know it’s not my son.