Next Street Over

Do you know fear? Have you heard of the Boogeyman? The Boogeyman is real and the face he wears is not scary until you know what he did to become the Boogeyman to me.

I was standing in the basement with my mom as she rummaged through old boxes when I spotted the book. A little black book right next to the boxes of old dusty magazines my mom kept for some reason. A small book but it caught my eye. Actually, what caught my eye was the face of the photo sticking out of the book. I spotted his face, the face of the Boogeyman. The man who when I was ten years old sent my little town into a tailspin when he kidnapped and murdered two boys. I looked at this book that probably had no meaning or impact if you just looked at it alone, yet it held his photograph. I looked at it for a good minute just staring at his young all American boy face. Amazing that the face of a stranger, someone I had never met in person who looked like a nice sweet boy could send me into such shock and make me feel like a scared ten year old girl again. Why? Why was this monster's picture in this book, a book in the basement of my childhood home?

I couldn’t help myself. I reached out my shaky hand and I picked up the book. I remembered the fear of my youth.. The book felt cold and smooth. I felt cold and scared. It was deep fear. Like being in the bottom of a dark well and not knowing the way out. I turned the book over with both of my hands.. Another picture fell out and fluttered to the ground. I wasn’t ready for the emotions and turmoil seeing this picture sticking out of the book would have on me.

Why was I doing this to myself? Memories started coming back and I felt like I was watching a movie on an old VHS tape in slow motion trying to capture something not seen. I let the pages flip through my fingers and they stopped on some of the pictures. Billy Jo, the first boy taken and murdered, then some pictures of what he was tied with. My stomach felt like it was pushing up in the back of my throat. I skimmed some of the book. Is this a diary? He talked about sitting at the gas station across the street watching Billy wrap papers at the store, the convenience store I stopped at every day after school. I felt even colder and felt like I was in some kind of time warp or void. I could picture it. I could picture everything he was writing about in the book. This was my town. The town I had grown up in and I knew of every place he was mentioning as he followed Billy up the street. Up the street, he followed him as he started his paper route. I wanted to stop reading, but I didn’t.

I was gripping the book and my breathing was shallow. And then I almost dropped the book. I couldn’t breathe. I can not believe what my eyes just read. I must have read this wrong. How can I be reading this? I feel like I am watching this happen. He is describing how he took Billy and “where” he took him. The street where he took him was one street over. The next block...The next street. My mind is spinning. He kidnapped this sweet blonde 13 year old boy the next street over from where I lived. The next street over…...I never knew it was so close. I felt like I was going to throw up. My stomach was in knots and it felt like a rock sitting in my stomach. He was so close to my house. I remember after Billy disappeared how scared we all were. Then when they found him dead, that fear multiplied a thousand times. I remember walking to school wishing I could have gotten a ride, looking in car windows watching behind me. Sometimes I walked with a friend but I remember that I had to walk alone most of the time. I would walk quickly down what I have now just read is the very street he drove up and stalked this boy to take him.

I flipped some more pages. My eyes fall onto a new entry. He took the first boy in September and now we are in December. The day he takes his second victim.

The next line I read felt like a punch in the chest and took my breath away. I must have made a noise because my mom looked up at me from the box she was going through confused.

“ I was looking for the little girl who was usually standing on the corner.” The girl, the girl standing on the corner was supposed to be his next victim. She wasn’t there that day and he took another boy instead. I LIVED AROUND THE CORNER! I was the last house on the street. I would walk down my driveway and wait for my friend who lived down the street so we could walk together, if she was late I went on alone. I remember how scared all of us were during those few months when we didn’t know who he was or where he was if he would take someone else. Did he take the same path as before on that day he was looking for the little girl?

Was the little girl me? Was it my friend? Billy had been taken around the corner! I couldn’t help myself, I kept going back and thinking and wondering as I walked aimlessly around the cold basement with the little black book in my hand still in shock as I continued to read. I blindly walked toward the stairs lost in my thoughts, memories, and fears. I am having a hard time seeing the words on the paper. I don’t like to say his name. I don’t like to hear his name. He was caught, tried, and convicted to death row for what he did. Yet, here I was an adult and I felt just like when I was ten walking in fear to school. My memories are painful, but I want to know more. I am scared of what else I might discover. For now, the boogeyman occupies my mind and I see his face in my memories staring at me from the book. The bigger question now is why is the black book of confessions in my parents cold forgotten boxes in the basement?