THEY

Whispers in the dark

I never told

Anyone this,

And I probably shouldn’t

But here it goes.

Tonight

Is the anniversary

Of my eldest

Son’s death.

 

Mark was eleven

When he disappeared.

This day

Ten years ago.

He never came home,

We looked relentlessly

But no Mark.

Only his shoes were found

Ten feet apart

In Banana Park.

 

I don’t understand

How no one heard him

No one

How a little boy cries for help

Goes unheard.

When it looked

As if he were running,

Running from something

Or someone

Running for his life.

 

How could somebody

Be

So twisted

So cruel

So malevolent.

To take him

My son

Away from us.

 

I am left to browse

Through his things

The pain

The hurt

The anguish

The anger

The hatred

The loneliness

I am left with these things

 

I still keep them

Hold them

Hug them

Kiss them

And talk as if

As if

He was still here.

 

I know

He’s gone

Gone!

The word alone

Stings

Turns my stomach

How I hurt inside

How I miss him so

How I loved him

But now

Now

He’s gone

Gone!

 

Is it wrong?

For me

To feel like this?

Am I crazy?

To hold on

Is it wrong?

To keep him here.

 

I’m scared

scared

I might forget

And loose him forever.

 

I hang on tight

To his things

So I won’t

Forget.

I won’t

I can’t

My head throbs

My heart aches

My tears run its course

Bring him back to me

Bring him back

I plead.

 

One book

Many drawings

For a boy age 11

He was so talented.

 

As I looked through it,

Admiring them

Little by little

They became dark

And, menacing.

 

There was

One sketch he drew

One

Of a tall man

All in black

With a hat

He was

Faceless

Surrounded by figures

It hit me

Like a rock

I went back

Thirty years.

 

Those figures

That thing

I had seen

Them both

When

I was nine years old

 

The nightmares

My day terrors

Those horrific

Days I had spent

In the asylum

Alone

No one believed me

No one heard me say

It’s him!

 

It scared me then

It scares me now

That tiny voice

I heard

That spoke his name

Made the hairs

On the back of my neck

Stand on end

That whisper

Sends chills down my spine,

Boogieman

 

He drove me insane

He made me

Crazy!

No

I forgotten him

No

It’s not him

It’s not!

It can’t be

 

I turn the page

Mark’s words

Now stare up at me.

His title alone

Had frozen me,

Like daggers in my heart,

I could not breathe.

 

 

They

 

Like spirits they are

Prancing and dancing

Playing games in the dark

Eyes that glows

 

In and out they dart

From the corners of my eyes,

They are shadows

They are ghostly spies

 

They hide in the shadows

It is where they stay

Watching and waiting

Night and day.

 

Today they whispered

Boogieman would come for me,

That tonight I would

Scream and plea

 

Into darkness

I go

What awaits me?

I do not know

 

They are shadows

Playing games in the dark,

It is where they wait for me

In Banana Park.

 

For this was

Mark's last entry,

My heart, it aches

I feel so empty.

The chills I had felt,

With dread

All around me

Boogieman he said.

 

NO! NO!

I scream,

Take me, take me!

I plead

Bring him back

To me

Bring him back.

For tonight

Is the anniversary

Of my eldest

Son’s death.

 

Tonight I go back

To that park

It is they I wait for

Alone in the dark.

Author's Note

Revised.

I hope I gave you a chill, *whispers in the dark behind you*

Reviews

[Stuart Lethe]

It's interesting to me that the boys are both 9 and 11, those are the numbers that coincide with my insanity and I knew I was drawn to this story, for some reason and I knew that it wouldn't disappoint. I love Slenderman, a very surreal and eldritch character. Very well written and a lot of fun to read. Nice Work!

[lawrence bear]

Thank you for your review

[Satan's Crow]

You have a good command of words but you could have made this into a real story instead of playing around,

[lawrence bear]

Where did i go wrong? Id like to make it better if need be 😊

[Satan's Crow]

Don't get me wrong, it's nice prose but you can tell this story by showing the grieving father, and following him as he learns that he knows what took his son. He could try to make contact and offer up a trade, his life for his son's. Whether he succeeds or not is up to you but I think you could do more with this. Take the friggin' plunge, I think you know how to swim.

[lawrence bear]

👍 i will tackle it later. Day job consuming me. Send me an email more on this please [email protected]

[Satan's Crow]

No. It's up to you, what you want to make of the idea, I can't help you there.
I'm hardly an expert. I just posted a short story of mine called Hester. I'd appreciate it if you gave it a read and let me know what you think. I just submitted it to an online Fantasy and Science Fiction magazine. They say they will get back to me in 26 days. Worth a shot.

[Robbie~xoxo~]

I want to say WOW!...this is an amazing and creative story! I love the style of how you have unfurled the story as it spirals down. This is very similar to how I like to write stories. You have captured the anguish and devastation of losing a child in a profound way....add to that, the horror of finding him alive but not himself! Well done!

[lawrence bear]

thank you, that means a lot :)

[Robbie~xoxo~]

It's my pleasure. :)

[Coyote Poetry]

The poem is very good. I thought the poem was a real story. The emotion felt real and the struggle to understand came alive in the words. You can write a story my friend. No weakness in the outstanding story of suspense and mystery.
Coyote

[lawrence bear]

Thank you kindly :) that was my intentions.

[Norma M Sutton]

Spooky. It reads as real.

[lawrence bear]

thank you for your review