It’s their sweet little nightly routine.
“Mommy, is the Boogeyman going to get me tonight?”
“No honey. You’re safe. He’s not going to get you tonight.”
“OK. Goodnight Mommy.”
“Goodnight, Love.” She kisses her daughter’s forehead.
It’s their dark nightly routine.
“Tonight?” Her breath quickens. Her room suddenly chills.
The Boogeyman’s presence.
She makes a fist. It will be over quickly.
He passes through her.
Her vision blurs. She slumps, exhausted.
He disappears through the wall.
In the mirror, she catches a glimpse of a new rash on her forehead.
The mark. It means not tonight.
Tomorrow.
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