AN: 'Fear of the boogeyman'. Recommended listening: Elle King's 'Ain't Gonna Drown'.
Some nice soul on YouTube uploaded Boris Karloff's narration of The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, which is exciting! (Boris Karloff, y'all…yes.) I'm still seeing if I can scrounge up Joanna Galdone's narration of The Tailypo-I swear it's her voice I hear for Granny Keeny.
Sorry this is late again-my mum's unwell and I've been…a bit busy.
McStaken-Same. Everyone around me is like, 'ehh' and I'm like, 'BUT THERE'S HEART-RIPPIN', YA FOOLS!' And. Uh. Many. Many, many. Bless their hearts.
Gotham doesn't have a boogeyman legend anymore. Oh, there's a few old folktales that have lingered-the Goat, for instance-but that's been so wrapped up in real-life murders that it hardly counts.
No, these days they've got real monsters. Parents warn their children to go to sleep or the Joker will get them. Eat your vegetables or Croc will eat you. The kids down in Crime Alley swap stories of the Dumbass that touched the Batmobile and was never seen again, and the college students joke-but-don't about the bubbly blonde substitute psych prof that…wasn't the sub.*
Rodney Wilson knows he shouldn't be out this late on a school night, but his parents are fighting again and he just…he can't, okay? The walls are too thin to drown anything out and he just can't listen to them anymore. It's not like he's far, just a couple blocks away from the building, in the little park. They won't notice. They never notice. He'll go back in another hour or so, when they've had time to yell it out, and everything'll be fine.
He plops onto a park bench, notices he's got new Candy Crush lives, and opens the app. S'dark out here, kinda cold. Quiet. Nobody ever comes to this park, and usually that's okay because there's no druggies or anything, but tonight…
It's spooky, tonight. Fall's just starting to settle in, the cool breeze carrying more of a bite than usual. It's darker than it should be-one of the signs that he can usually see is out. Probably got slammed into-Man-Bat was out earlier this week. There's always some costumed freak out anymore.
…
Maybe he should go home and just try to tune it out. Maybe a neighbor'll let him stay with them.
Nah. He's been comin' out here for months now and nothin's ever happened. He knows the drill-stay aware, don't talk to strangers, if someone gets too close, punch first and ask questions later.
"You know it's not safe to be out after dark." a voice murmurs from directly behind him. He jumps and stands up, takes several steps backwards. It's a man, a tall, skinny man with glasses.
"Whatcha want, man?"
"Concerned citizen." the man says smoothly, and Rodney calls bullshit. Concerned citizens don't exist in Gotham. "Most people know better than to wander around alone at night."
"Yeah, well, I'm waitin' for a friend." He eyes the road. "Think I'll go wait down there. Bye."
"I do hope you won't have to wait long. Good night."
Uh. This is probably bad.
The man moves on down the dark path, vanishing a few steps in. Yeah, Rodney's gonna go home. Right now.
He's barely reached the streetlights-dim and shitty though they are-when the man appears in front of him, glasses shiny enough to hide his eyes.
"Didn't your parents ever tell you to behave or the boogeyman would get you?"
"I don't want any trouble, dude, just-"
The man moves closer, hands lax at his sides, and Rodney opens his phone, prepares to dial 911.
"They really should have, if they didn't."
His thumb hits the nine. The man's arm starts to come up and then-and then!-a gaggle of drunks amble down the park path behind them. Rodney half-turns in case they're in on this, and when he turns back to the street, the man's gone like he'd never been there at all.
Sitting on the cement where he'd been standing, however, is a piece of straw.
THE END
*Things were going well until the SWAT team burst in through the window, to be fair.