Dylan Has Too Many Teeth Now, Too – Short Horror Story

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There’s a man who watches me sleep. I’ve never seen his face though. Not all of it. What I have seen is his teeth. That may sound strange, but the top half of his head is always like the top of a pole in a circus tent—kinda straining the cloth upward.

I know he’s there now. Grinning…waiting. He doesn’t make a bump in the bed, but when I lift the covers, I always see him. My eyes adjust to the dark. Usually I make out my legs first, then the white of all of his teeth, then the movement of his arms as he starts to crawl toward me.

I’m always too afraid to let him get far. I’m afraid to let him out.

My brother, Dylan, calls me a baby for whimpering in the mornings over a “boogie man.” I tell him about the grin and how each night it seems a little bit wider and hungrier than the night before. Dylan scoffs.

My dad reads the paper at the table. He talks about the missing kids in town. Tom Yancy and Eddie Merchant and Maddie Shaw. There are others too. Bodies found rotting in backyards. All of them missing their teeth. Maybe some kids have my boogie man too. Maybe some don’t.

Dylan rolls his eyes. Mom looks concerned. Dad looks tired. I feel tired. I just want to live in a normal house. I don’t want to worry about feeling safe while I sleep, about what might creep up if I stare too long.

Dylan teases me after breakfast. “It’s coming. No one believes in your boogie man. No one’s gonna save you. I wouldn’t sleep if I were you.

That night I hear footsteps in my room. I hide under the covers and when I look, the boogie man isn’t there. I stay awake until I can’t.

The next morning my dad is on the phone with the police. My mom cries. I still feel tired. Two days later Dylan’s face is on the evening news. Four days after that, they find his body. Well, pieces of it.

I learn the phrase ’closed casket’ and wonder why it makes my mom look sick. Because of the closed casket, my mom says that we should remember Dylan in another way. I remember him for his arts and crafts the most, so I look for things that remind me of that. I go through his desk, I search, and I find a hammer, pliers and a bag with far too many teeth.

That night I lift the covers and instead of teeth, I see eyes glinting in the darkness near my feet. One winks, and I sleep soundly, knowing my boogie man isn’t as scary as the monster that didn’t believe in him.

submitted by /u/decorativegentleman