When things go bump in the night, the Paranormal Protection Foundation keeps you safe.
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When things go bump in the night, the Paranormal Protection Foundation keeps you safe.

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I'm missing having "scary" wrestlers,,,,
IF IT ISN'T MAKING A BABY CRY IN THE FRONT ROW I DON'T WANT ITTT
Imagine this.. part 2
It's been a few weeks since Michael saved me from that hell and it's been nothing but pure chaos. The fun kind of course. Me and Michael have been bouncing from town to town in order to stay off the radar. We tried staying in our old home town but we were quickly chased out by the authorities who recognized us. Currently we are staying in another town. We couldn't rent houses or anything, I mean neither of us has jobs nor money so we can't rent houses. We just find abandoned structures and stay in them.
I told Michael we needed supplies, he was against it, and to be honest I was too. I hated the thought of social interaction with anyone other than my boyfriend. Though, we need to eat and hydrate our bodies. It was a basic human need that had to be taken care of. We avoided it for so long but now we really need to pay attention to our needs.
After much convincing, and whining, I was finally able to go out to the store in peace. I gave Michael a soft kiss on his forehead and grabbed a wallet before heading out the door. The wallet wasn't mine of course, like I said, neither of us have jobs. This is a wallet that we..found.
After arriving to the store I noticed all the cars parked in the parking lot and suddenly the basic human needs didn't seem important anymore. With all these people here social interaction is inevitable.
I take a deep breathe and start my journey inside.
I walked around the store for a few minutes, picking up different supplies here and there. I was greeted with judgment and disgust but could only guess it was due to my appearance. I haven't necessarily had the option of properly cleaning myself since Michael came along. Both of us are pretty dirty.
As quickly as I could, I paid and booked it for the exit.
I made it to the parking lot when I heard a group of voices behind me. Upon investigation I saw a group of different males and females rushing at me while they yelled horrid and violent things at me. They knew who I was, what I had done. What we had done.
I tried to get away from them as soon as the information registered in my brain. Instead of fleeing I was yanked back by my hair and thrown to the asphalt road beneath my feet. I feet my head bang against the road and a large amount of pain washed over me. My stuff had been dispersed on the ground close by and the people were hovering over me.
One person went as far as to say that they even called the cops. I felt heavy tears pour down my warm face as I cowered into a ball. Hiding away from the world and the crude things that inhabit it. Hoping for all this shouting to stop and fade from me.
It seemed that as soon as it started it had stopped. However it hadn't faded away, it just halts to a stop. Everything did.
I reluctantly peek over my arms to see what had happened. The sight was one for nightmares. That was, if I was scared.
Michael had grabbed one of the females head and crushed it between his hands. Before anyone could properly react Michael already began his blood bath. Mutilating each and every person who thought it would of been a good idea to harass me.
I silently watched the scene unfold before me, taking in every detail. Maybe I am as crazy as Michael, but that just provides more reason as to why were the perfect match.
A match made in hell..
Breathing heavily and tightly grasping his knife, Michael walked to me and picked me up. He sort of picked me up like baby on his hip, except my legs were hanging off his arm and my arms were draped loosely around his neck. His arm was under my butt while he walked off to, what I could only guess at the moment, out home.
.
.
.
We arrived home and the door was barely hanging on it's hinges. The house is already old, what makes him think the door can withstand being slammed like that? I'm slightly perplexed at this but keep quiet nonetheless. I wouldn't want to upset Michael more than he already was.
We entered the dirty old kitchen where he set me on the counter. He stood there, between my legs, hands on either side of me, staring down at me. His breathing had calmed down and his knife had been discarded but his grip on me never faltered the slightest. I can tell he is upset, not at me, but the world. I'm not saying I'm okay, because I'm far from it, all I wanted was to go buy some groceries. But people can't seem to just leave us alone.
I hadn't noticed my eyes were glazed over nor my lip was quivering until Michael took ahold of my chin. He slipped off his mask and placed it on the counter somewhere nearby. Then he gently swiped his thumb across my quivering lip in a soothing manor. I let out a light sob and quickly balled Michaels jumper in my fists while I cried in his chest. The fear had overpowered me as soon as the adrenaline worn off. Now all I was left with was dread, coursing through my body.
He ran his fingers through my dirty hair and massaged my scalp, rubbed my back, kissed the crown of my head every now and then, basically anything he could fathom in order to sooth me. I know he doen't know these things well, emotions and such, yet he tries. I'm grateful for his efforts, for him being here with me. Michael will never know how appreciative of him I am. Forever will be.
As I begin calming down Michael grabs me back into his arms. I happily accept the warm embrace. We stay like this for a while, words being spared and small actions of affirmation being welcomed. Then we hear it..
Police sirens..
Michael quickly hides me away in the empty pantry as he grabs his knife and mask. He gives me a swift kiss on the cheek before hurrying to shield his face. Before further actions I grab his hand and he turns to me. I gently pull him down by his tear stained jumper and bring him into a passionate kiss.
All of our feelings to one another were displayed in that loving gesture. The appreciation for the others presence and how much indescribable love was put into our relationship.
When air was vital we reluctantly pulled apart. Michael rubbed my cheek with his knuckles as I held on to his knifed hand. Loud banging interrupted our moment as Michael was quick to put on his mask and gently push me into the pantry once again. I sit on the floor with my knees to my chest and listen as he barricades the door with something.
The sounds I heard for the next hour or so could only be described as unholy or gruesome, as some would say. Shots being fired and screaming coming from every square inch of the building with the occasional silence.
I just sat and listened, waiting and planning. Me and Michael would definitely need to move again, maybe farther away from Haddonfeild, but we'll see. For now all I can do is wait for Michael to finish his job so I can do mine.
I've been conducting research on boogeymen and I ve come to a startling surprise. Common to most interpretations Boogeymen can fold up to fit in impossibly small spaces and through tight gaps to enter house and rooms and do so at night, but are quite large when unfolded. They can sense when people have been naughty and have a special interest in children. In latin Europe and Latin America they are known to carry sacks and can sense when people are asleep. In eastern meditation they wear big coats and after each visit will return a year later.
It is clear to me that Santa Claus is a Boogeyman.
"The people of south Louisiana derived the word rougarou from the French term loup garou. “Loup” means wolf, and “garou” translates into a man turned into an animal. The words are used interchangeably. Some people call him the rougarou, but others refer to the monster as the loup garou. “You can have any kind of garou,” Ancelet says. “You can put the word chicken in front of it or dog or whatever. But the most common tale in south Louisiana seems to be that of the loup garou – the werewolf.”"
"
The tale changes from parish to parish. Some think that the rougarou can only roam the fields and forest. Others say that the rougarou is under the spell for 101 days. After that time, the curse is transferred from person to person when the rougarou draws another human’s blood. During the day he returns to human form, but acts sickly and fears to tell of his situation lest a worse fate should befall him.
Almost all have heard of the rougarou. Stories range from the rougarou as a headless horseman to a wolf that prowls the forest at night. Usually, the stories change with location. “The rougarou is an old man who died in a bad car wreck past a curve in Dulac,” Brandi Baville says. “The rougarou only lives in Dulac. He comes around and haunts people late at night.”
When told that the legend existed for generations, and is told throughout south Louisiana, Baville shakes her head. “Oh, no. You must be wrong. I think the rougarou only lives by my house. He’s a scary old man. Not a werewolf.”
"
He wanders through the woods and hunts his prey at the darkest night hours. His blood shot eyes frantically flick. Right. Left. They search
---
[do not add undescribed images to my post]

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Lay your head down, Child
I won’t let The Boogeyman come 👻🎶
I still have all these deadly headcanons in my mind of the Halloween movies (of the continue of Ends until Mylaurie moments yeheheh) it´s unbelievable! Drawing deadly eyes are pretty difficult toh!
My comission
Boogeymen: The Killer Compilation
(FlixMix VHS 2001)