The Boggyman, or The Man Beneath The Bed

27 November 2018 | Your True Encounters

When I was younger, my sister and I shared a bed and a room. We were generally happy and healthy, with vivid imaginations, despite what happened to us for one solid week in our past.

I was about seven at the time, my sister was nearly ten, and we were just snuggling down to sleep in our new room in the house our parents had just spent the past two days moving us into. We were happy and expecting to make new friends in the quiet community of SunRay, Tx. As we closed our eyes, and drifted off to sleep, something very unnerving happened. The bed began to shake, knocking into the wall of the shared wall between our room and our parents’ room. It was violent, and loud, and knocked my sister and I into each other’s arms. Just as the bed finally stopped shaking, our mother opened the door and turned on the lights.“Just what are you two up to!” She said it in a very exasperated manner. Apparently our brother had just gotten to sleep, and the shaking bed had woke him and our mother from their sleep, too.

My sister and I both claimed innocence, after all, we had not moved the bed. It was a huge bed, and we barely weighed 100lbs together.

This continued over the next couple of days, always ending with our mother coming in to chide us for being so loud and knocking on the wall. On the fourth day, my sister and I determined not to go to sleep until we saw what was making the bed move. We sat huddled together in the darkness, my sister hoarding the flashlight she had liberated from Dad’s toolbox, waiting for the bed to move.

Sometime after Mom went to sleep, we were still watching, even if our eyes were growing heavy with the need to sleep. I was sure that it would not happen that night, mostly because we were waiting for it to happen, but my sister was absolutely sure it would. Just as I was about to give up and turn over for sleep, we heard a knock that came from above our heads.

My sister clicked on the flashlight, aiming it in the direction of the sound upon the headboard, and there, we saw the most frightening thing our little brains could have seen at that time. A hand rising up from between the bed and the wall from beneath the bed. We both let out squeals of fright, jumping up and hugging each other as the sound of an evil laugh filled the room. The sound was cut off only by the banging of the bedroom door opening, and Mom turning on our bedroom light. We both jumped up from our bed, and ran into her arms blabbering like babies and scared to death.

Mom took us into the living room, and although she was very irritated by being awakened by her two of her children screaming bloody murder in the middle of the night, she let us sleep in bed with her until Dad came home and carried us back into our bed.

The next night, our parents decided that we were just scaring ourselves silly with telling ghost stories. We were put back in our room, and were both scared to death as the bed began shaking once more. This time, however, my sister did something that is very much not a part of her character… She leaned over the side of the bed, and clicked on the flashlight as the bed began to shake. When she did, I saw the thing that leapt up from under the bed, and run out of the room as our mother turned on the light with a very irritated and exasperated look on her face. It is something that I will never forget, nor will my sister, this thing that was beneath our bed.

Looking at each other, we both silently agreed not to mention what we had just seen. Instead, we said it was the bogeyman. The truth, however, was much different. What was beneath that bed was in my sister’s definition, demonic. It was definitely in the guise of an old man, with creepy glowing eyes, and long talon like fingers. He didn’t have hair, but strings of long, nearly transparent locks hung her and there about his shoulders, nearly corpse like, than bald. His teeth were sharp and broken, and his ears stuck out at odd angles from his head. Besides that, he was dressed in rags, but his feet were bare.

Since that night, my sister has refused to sleep without a light on in the room. She also has refused to speak about it, with the idea that just talking about the demonic beings will bring them into your life. I respect that, even if I believe differently.

I can’t help but wonder if anyone else has been visited by this bogeyman?

Submitted by Atreadia to Weird Darkness and My Haunted Life Too

© 2018, G. Michael Vasey & My Haunted Life Too. All rights reserved.

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