The Boogeyman

By Scott Niemic

Is the boogeyman real?
When your alone, in the back mountains of Vermont after midnight, your mind begins to think so.
If you like fast paced action with a retro twist, then your nostalgic taste buds will be satisfied with this true account of loosing my fear of the dark, the old fashion way, by finding out for yourself, if he is real or not.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Scott Niemic
• Release date: Dec 24, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463505915

Scott Niemic

Scott Niemic placed runner-up with his first short story " The Boat" in " The Project Greenlight contest " in 2001, created by Matt Damon and Ben Affleck.Niemic respects authors like Chris Herren ( "Basketball Junkie"-must read period.) Author "Bob Halloran" including his latest "The king of Weed"(Jimmy Cournoyer-must read) and "Irish Thunder:The hard life and times of Micky Ward"(must read) contemporary favorites from King, Demille, Parker, and Lehane.(all mando reading!)Niemic realized he finally had a place for his wild imagination to run free...A blank sheet of paper.Niemic's memoir is titled" First Class Jerk: Bugatti dreams on a bus pass budget"(coming soon.)Niemic loves the ocean state and calls Rhode Island his home and can be reached on his author page,: "Scott Niemic Author's [e-mail]."

Book preview

14

The Boogeyman

By

Scott Niemic

Copyright 2018

Smashwords Edition

Is the boogeyman real? I asked my dad watching our campfire pop.

His glazed over eyes gave me that look all ten year olds get when they’re about to learn a lesson the hard way.

He cocked his head back and took a long pull from his beer. He was silent, but I could see the puzzle pieces shifting around in his head. I stirred the glowing embers with a long branch. Sparks of dust wisped upwards disintegrating.

My dad dropped a piece of pine on top of the structure. Bending forward, he put his face close to the coals and blew a long breath. His beard I feared would ignite and catch ablaze. The coals went red hot, then flames rose up in relief. Red and orange fingers slipped through spaces wrapping around the piece of wood, feeding on it; pulling it down.

I scooted a few feet back as the heat made my jeans feel like a hot ironing board. My dad never moved from his spot. The rising shadows performed around us in a ghostly ensemble. I didn’t like it. I was afraid of the dark, but I couldn’t tell him that. There were monsters in the woods; all kids knew that.

Tonight, I had reason to be concerned. It was 1987, my dad and I were alone camping in the back mountains of South Newfane, Vermont; a wild land almost unchanged since the Ice Ages except for its penny candy store and red covered bridge.

There were monsters roaming these hills, looking for a little boy foolish enough to stray from camp, or worse, let the fire