The Boogeyman Novels & Stories

The man behind us said, we stopped suddenly when his staff blocked us. That man was none other than Boogerman. "Run away from here too, there's no point in being with us." "What's wrong with you Boogerman?" Edmond and I both said his name was. This Edmond quickly let go of his hand and faced Boogerman. I'm still very surprised that they are now together with Hellbilly, what is that team up? "Don't let Loid get out of here alive!" Hell billy yelled, we saw Boogerman's grin as he waved to us as if to say goodbye.

Then there were the two goblins and a bodach, sitting at the table nearby. A bodach is a nasty male fairy whose pastimes include stealing human children. This particular one was old-man-thin with sagging, jaundiced skin and bulging, cloudy, blue eyes. Eyes which he set on us with shocked glee. Conri started to growl and stepped forward while Tiernan pulled his sword, but I went between them, held up a hand, and blew harshly across my fingertips.

The young man's eyes had widened at the sight of the grinning giant with the split face. "I-I don't know what you talking about…" He had stammered, eyes not able to leave the sight of the monster before him. Christopher knew that his eyes had gone cold at that moment when his smile disappeared. "Well sell it somewhere else, asshole. And give me your name. NOW!"

asked the woman. “Don’t call me fairy, none of those creatures exist. This—” She pointed briefly at the boy. “This is insanity, he's not a vampire—” “Vampire. The boy is a vampire, accept it,” Bo said. “No.” Kayla shook her head. “He’s not a vampire.”

Marcus roared, his arms shifting immediately into massive amber-furred claws. The bubbling mud didn’t just rise, it re-shaped itself. Hulking, grotesque figures pushed up from the bog. They were mud-demons, eight-foot tall golems, built from thick sludge, rotting cypress roots, and bleached bones of the Coven’s past victims. Their empty eye sockets glowed the same sickly purple light as that effigy they’d sent to my estate. "Tear them down!" I screamed, half turning my body as I shifted. My jaw expanded, my fangs dropping, and I launched myself off the root-path straight into the center of the demon mass.

"Let's go. Never seen that kind of performance before." … When I arrived at the center, I realized my life had been dull until this moment. The center, like its name suggested, was filled with all kinds of beastfolk. Adorable rabbits, seductive foxes, imposing wolf-dogs, outgoing and cheerful puppies, and more. This was heaven. The beastfolk were performing on the stage with all they had, showing off their charm as best as they could. The performer with the highest votes would be crowned Best Beastfolk Star, and they'd be awarded with a handsome amount of prize money.

who didn't look like security; they looked like reapers. Ethan had curled nervously into the folds of his mother’s dress as she offered a charming, practised smile to the monster. "Don Emelio," she had cooed, her voice dripping with a sweetness that didn't reach her eyes. The "Boogeyman" had looked down at Ethan. He reached out with a hand that felt like sandpaper, scruffing Ethan’s hair in a semi-rough manner that lacked any hint of affection. His smile was sadistic, a baring of teeth that made Ethan’s stomach coil into a tight, sick knot. Even then, as a child, Ethan had sensed that he wasn't being greeted—he was being appraised. Like an asset. Like collateral.

I had to settle for holding his hand. The gloopy sounds of a transformation began. Bones broke and rearranged. The bear disappeared, and a mountain of a man took his place—a bearded, very hairy mountain of a man. “I’m here to see the Colonel. You, Esmerelda?” I nodded, and a low growl vibrated in Ghost’s chest. “Don’t mean no harm. He said you keep tearing up his lawn with your witchy skills.” He chuckled. “That man loves his lawn. The name’s Boomer.” “This is Ghost, my mate.”

He’s an elusive kidnapper and sex-trafficker. Nate sees flashes of Francine’s Gnnail inbox, some pictures in her phone’s gallery that are rather risqué, socmed photos of the man called Jayrus Trocio, and a little tabloid coverage about the mysterious “Boogeyman”. {The Boogeyman’s modus operandi is to set up a fake photo-shoot and put Rohypnol a.k.a. roofies in a drink that he then offers the victim. Once inside his blacked-out van, the victim is never seen again. The Boogeyman gets the young girls addicted to drugs and turns them into prostitutes, forcing them to star in webcam striptease performances.}

“You should ask Amy. All I know is that we need to perform three cleansings over three days on you and your friend, in order to rid you guys of all your parasites without leaving an open wound. Then, you can come into the Manor, and we can perform the ritual to unchain Ku— the shadow.” He narrowed his eyes. “You had a name for it.” “I call him Kujo.” He tried not to laugh and failed. “Oh, right! Like Stephen King’s novel Cujo!” “Well, he’s big and angry and dangerous like a rabid Saint Bernard, right?” “Right!” He laughed heartedly a moment longer. “Sorry. You’re just full of surprises, young lady.” “Go figure, old man.” He elbowed me, laughing out loud again. When he calmed down, he took an