Ankle Snatcher

by Grady Hendrix

never told them my dad said the boogeyman got Mom because she stepped out of bed without turning the light on first. I never told them that for the rest of my life I’ve never once gotten out of bed in the dark.

Because that was when a third hand shot out from under my bed and snatched her left leg at the knee, and two more squirmed out of the dark to snatch her right ankle braced against my bed, and a sixth grabbed on to her right thigh,

I must say, I was not expecting the extra hands O_O

There wouldn’t be a body left for anyone to find. Just like my mom.

“Your dad says it’s not too bad at Kirkland,” Louis said. “The beds there are poured concrete slabs. No space underneath for anything to hide.” My vision rippled like I was going to be sick. “You feel me?” Louis asked, then cocked his head to one side, studying my reaction. He couldn’t be talking about what it sounded like he was talking about.

They live in our closets and under our beds, and after dark they come out when we break the rules. We’re serving time for the boogeymen’s crimes.”