THE BOOGEYMARE
"I killed my two babies," Mr. Cake said to the psychiatrist, a lime green mare named Mrs. Parker who sat in front of him.
It was late in the evening. Mr. Cake had just gotten to the doctor's office and past the nurse sitting at the front desk, and was now sitting in a small, brightly lit room, telling his story to Mrs. Parker, his psychiatrist. There was a closet on the wall opposite of the doorway, which Mr. Cake had insisted on closing before they had gotten started. Now, there they both were, sitting on chairs facing each other in the middle of the room, as Mr. Cake told his story.
Mrs. Parker raised her eyebrows. "You killed your babies?"
"Yes... I did..." Mr. Cake said. He chuckled a bit bemusedly. "First Pound Cake. Then Pumpkin Cake."
"I see... And would you mind telling me why you killed your babies?" Mrs. Parker asked.
"It was an accident," Mr. Cake said. "You see, I didn't mean to kill them... And I didn't kill them directly... But it's my fault that they're gone. The... The..."
"Yes, Mr. Cake?" Mrs. Parker inquired. "The what?"
"The... The... Boogeymare got them."
Mrs. Parker tilted her head questioningly.
Mr. Cake sighed and closed his eyes. "I know. You think I'm crazy now. You probably think I'm just another nut-job. But I don't care. I just came to get this off my chest."
"On the contrary, Mr. Cake, I do not think you are crazy. Would you mind telling me about how your babies died? I know this can be hard for you, so take your time."
Mr. Cake opened his eyes, but kept his head lowered. "Pound Cake went first. It must've been two years or so after the babies were born when the trouble started. They were learning how to talk, you know? Everything was going fine. And then one night after I put them to bed, they started to cry. And they wouldn't stop. So... I asked Pound Cake what was wrong... And he spoke."
"What did he say?" Mrs. Parker asked.
"He... Said one word. He said 'Boogeymare'".
"I see... And then what did you do?"
"I... I went back into the living room. I was mad at my wife, because I was sure she had taught the two the word, and I wanted to know what the hay she was thinking, teaching our babies a word like that. Then... She got mad at me. She had no idea what I was talking about."
"And then...?"
"And then we went to bed," Mr. Cake said. "But it took forever for the babies to stop crying."
"Was Pound Cake still alive in the morning?" Mrs. Parker asked.
"Oh yeah, he was still alive," Mr. Cake said. "You see, whatever got them really took its time. But every night, for awhile, whenever we put the kids to bed, they would cry. Also, I began to notice something strange."
"And what was this strange thing you noticed, Mr. Cake?"
"I always closed the kids' closet door when I put them to bed. But every morning, when I went to get them up, it was always open again. It was open just a crack. But it was still open, even though I closed it all the way during the night."
"Did you move the kids to a different room?"
"No... I didn't... But I realize now that I probably should have."
"Mr. Cake, would you mind telling me when and how your son Pound Cake died?"
Mr. Cake took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice steady. "It started out as another usual night. Both of the kids cried when I put them to bed. But Pound Cake did something different that time. I asked him what was wrong as usual, but this time when he said 'Boogeymare', he p-pointed to the closet door with his hoof."
"And you went to bed, as usual?"
"Yes, both me and my wife did. She fell asleep pretty quickly, but I couldn't. And then, later that night, I h-heard Pumpkin Cake start to scream."
Mr. Cake tried to fight the tears, but one escaped anyways, sliding down his face. "I ran to their room quickly... And Pumpkin Cake was still screaming... And Pound Cake... He was... Was..."
"Take your time," Mrs. Parker said gently.
"Pound Cake was dead," Mr. Cake finally finished. "In his bed. His... His face was b-blue. He had been st-strangled, and there was blood on the back of his neck and on the pillow, like s-something with claws had grabbed his neck."
Mr. Cake couldn't talk anymore, and began sobbing. Mrs. Parker waited a minute until he had calmed down before continuing.
"What did the doctor say about your son's death?" Mrs. Parker asked. "I assume you had the doctor look at him?"
"Yes, I did," Mr. Cake said. "But I guess the doctor couldn't figure out what was wrong, and I didn't want to tell him that I thought a monster had killed my child. He eventually called it a case of SIDS. And I really wanted to believe him. I really didn't want to believe that there was a horrible something living in the house that had done that to my son. And I guess I actually started to believe it, which was the worst mistake I ever made, because it was what led to the death of P-Pumpkin Cake."
"Could you tell me what happened?" Mrs. Parker asked in a gentle voice.
Mr. Cake closed his eyes. "After the death of Pound Cake, we moved Pumpkin Cake to our room. It was my wife's idea, she didn't want the same thing happening to our daughter. And after the death of Pound Cake, she wasn't in a good mental state, so I agreed with her. I had to f-force myself to, because I was already half-believing what the doctor said, about Pound Cake's death being... normal.
"It went on like that for several months. And Pumpkin Cake never cried when she slept in our room. But the night I decided to move her back... That was the w-worst mistake I've e-ever made."
"Why did you decide to move her back to her old room?"
Mr. Cake took a deep breath. "My wife didn't want to. We argued for a long time. But I had my mind made up, I guess I just wanted to believe so badly that we didn't have a 'Boogeymare' living in the house that I was willing to bet my daughter's life on it."
A few more tears slipped from Mr. Cake's eyes. "And I know now that I never should have listened to the doctor or ignored my own instincts out of fear."
"What happened? Did the baby cry when you put her back in her own room?" Mrs. Parker asked.
Mr. Cake laughed again bemusedly. "Oh, yeah. She did, right away. And she pointed at that closed closet door with her hoof and said, 'Boogeymare, daddy, Boogeymare'".
"What did you do after she said that?"
"I told her there was nothing in the closet, that the Boogeymare wasn't real, and to just go to sleep," Mr. Cake replied. "I even checked the closet before I left the room. There was nothing in there but toys."
"And then?" Mrs. Parker pressed.
"My wife and I went to bed. I thought she would never go to sleep, she was so worried, but eventually she fell asleep, and Pumpkin Cake finally stopped crying. I had nearly went to sleep myself, when I heard- I heard-"
"Take your time," Mrs. Parker said.
Mr. Cake swallowed hard. "I heard P-Pumpkin Cake scream. It didn't wake my wife. But I ran out of bed, to Pumpkin Cake's room, and I saw- I- I saw it..."
Mr. Cake choked up a bit, and a few more tears slid down his face. "I saw the Boogeymare. I was standing in Pumpkin Cake's bed, and it was h-holding her b-by the neck with its front hooves, except th-they weren't really hooves, they were h-hands with claws. And it was bending her backwards, and sh-shaking her. A-and while I was s-standing in the doorway, I heard the sound when P-Pumpkin Cake's back and neck b-broke at the same time."
Mr. Cake broke into sobs, and put his face into his front hooves. It took almost five minutes before he could talk again.
"I ran," Mr. Cake said. "I ran out of the house. I just hid outside by the house for the rest of the night, and part of the morning. At one point, my wife fan out of the house, crying, and she d-didn't come back.
"When I went back inside and checked on Pumpkin Cake, sh-she was still in her b-bed, c-covered with b-blood..."
"That's enough," Mrs. Parker said gently. "I don't need any more details about what happened to her. I do have one more question though, what did the doctor say about the death?"
"The d-doctor took one look at Pumpkin Cake and said it was definitely murder," Mr. Cake said, still struggling to keep himself under control. "I didn't tell him that it had been a monster pony that had done it, he would have thought I was crazy, just like you probably do. He did, though, send a message to Canterlot for an investigator. It's been at least a few months with no response."
"Why did you wait a few months after this happened to talk to someone about this? It seems like it's been weighing on your mind an awful lot, Mr. Cake."
I-I honestly thought I could handle the whole situation by myself at first. But I can't. I'm-I'm paranoid, I lost both of my babies, and my w-wife hasn't come back to me yet."
"Well, it's good to talk about things that are bringing you down to somepony," Mrs. Parker said soothingly. "It really helps."
"I-it really did help," Mr. Cake agreed. "I know, you probably think I'm crazy. I can see it in your eyes. You think I'm crazy. But I don't care. I just needed to get this whole thing off my chest."
"That's what I'm here for," Mrs. Parker said, "for you to talk to. And I've said it before, and I will say it again. I don't think you are crazy, Mr. Cake. However, I would like to talk to you again. Do you want to go schedule an appointment at the front desk, say, for the day after tomorrow?"
"That sounds good," Mr. Cake agreed. "Thank you for seeing me."
"It was no problem at all," Mrs. Parker said.
Mr. Cake got up and walked out of the small room, closing the door behind him, and headed to the front desk at the front of the building. The nurse wasn't there, but there was a sign on the desk that said, Break Time- I'll be back in fifteen minutes.
Mr. Cake frowned, and headed back to the small room where he had talked to Mrs. Parker and opened the door. "Mrs. Parker? The pony at the front desk isn't-"
Mr. Cake stopped talking. Mrs. Parker was not in the room. But the closet door on the far wall was open. Just a crack. Mr. Cake froze as he heard a small voice coming from inside of the closet. Mr. Cake couldn't make out the words, but the voice sounded like somepony choking on their own vomit.
Suddenly, the closet door opened, and Mr. Cake's jaw dropped. Paralyzed with fear, he didn't even notice as his bowels let go, forming a puddle on the floor of the room.
"Gosh, it feels so good to finally get that off," the Boogeymare said in that same choking-sounding voice. "I was suffocating in that thing."
And with those words, it used its front claws to finish taking off the Mrs. Parker disguise that it had been wearing.
Author's Note
One-shot. Based off of/ponified version of a Stephen King story.
