Diary of a Boggart

by Christian Riley

Dear Book,

From behind the chimney on the rooftop, I watched them move in. I was careful not to slip on the mossy shingles, always so careful. They had a truck full of human stuff. There is a mom and a dad, and a little girl they call Miranda. They have a white feline. They call it Mister Jones, and already it knows of me. Tonight I will get to work.

***

Dear Book,

Last night I made the little girl cry. They put her in the corner room overlooking the creek. Her dad cleaned away the cobwebs, and her mom hung pink posters, and other girly stuff. They said a prayer and kissed the girl goodnight. I watched from the hole in the wall, and I waited until the adults were downstairs. Then I picked at the wall with a fingernail, and made breathing sounds. The little girl cried very soon afterward.

***

Dear Book,

This morning they filled the house with the smells of human food. They broke eggs in a black pan, and added strips of raw meat. The mom also made flat breads, and the little girl poured sweet-water over them. Lots of sweet-water. The smells were very bad. I retched on the floor in the front room, and the dad blamed Mister Jones, the feline. After they ate their nasty food, the humans dressed fancy and then left for the day. I went to work rummaging. I rummaged through the closets, cupboards, and shelves. The family came back to a mess. Again, the dad blamed Mister Jones.

***

Dear Book,

Today, the little girl saw me. I was peeing in the corner of the adults’ room, when she came in. She thought I was the feline. She said, Stop that, Mister Jones, but then I turned around and she saw my face. I laughed. She screamed. I shouted, Boo, and then she ran away. Her mom cuddled her afterward, and the dad put Mister Jones outside. I laughed some more.

***

Dear Book,

As expected, Mister Jones is now hunting me.

***

Dear Book,

Last night I opened the kitchen window and lured Mister Jones outside. We had a good chase, through the trees and across the creek. He almost got me in the field of flowers. Almost. But I made it to the stink-hole under the big tree, and then the wild canines came out. As expected, Mister Jones is now dead.

***

Dear Book,

I ran through the walls late last night, banging and knocking. The dad was angry. He cursed, and talked to the mom about rats, and kept saying, Where’s that damn cat when you need it? The next morning he set traps, but when the humans left for the day, I stacked all the traps on the porch. I can’t wait to see their faces when they get back.

***

Dear Book,

The men-in-blue came to the house. The dad talked to the men outside. He pointed at the traps on the porch and blamed bad humans. Sneaky humans. The men-in-blue wrote on paper books. They walked around the house, and inside the house, but they are baby-dumb and know nothing. They left very soon afterward. Then the little girl cried, and asked about Mister Jones. She wanted to know where Mister Jones is. Hehehe…Mister Jones…

***

Dear Book,

I ran through the walls again, late last night. This time, I did more than banging and knocking. I made screeching sounds, lots of screeching sounds. I sang witchy songs about the bones of Mister Jones. I moaned like a spirit creature, and barked like the wild canines under the big tree. The humans left very soon afterward.

***

Dear Book,

This morning, the humans came back to the house. They brought the man-in-black with them. They talked for a long time, and they said prayers. The man-in-black carried a book. He walked around the house, and inside the house, and said more prayers. But he is also baby-dumb, and knows nothing. Afterward, the humans ate food, and then the man-in-black left.

***

Dear Book,

It is late, and the humans left again. I started making noises early in the night, and then the dad ran through the house, cursing. He made holes in the walls and shined a light-stick into the darkness. He was very mad…his face was the color of the plum-fruit, and his eyes shook like leaves on the wind. I made evil laughter at him, and then the mom and little girl held each other on the stairs, crying. The dad cursed long and loud, but in the end, he gave up and went to them.

***

Dear Book,

From behind the chimney on the rooftop, I watched the humans move out. They packed a truck full with their ghastly stuff. The mom and little girl cried for Mister Jones, and the dad made an angry face at the house as they drove away. I laughed out loud, but was careful not to slip on the mossy shingles. Always so careful. Tonight I will get some rest.

Notes…

With over sixty story acceptances in less than three years, Chris sees no end to his writing addiction. His stories have been published in numerous magazines and anthologies, including Underground Voices, Black Treacle Magazine, Bete Noire, The Absent Willow Review, Residential Aliens, and Bards and Sages Quarterly. You can reach him at [email protected], or at his blog; frombehindthebluedoor.wordpress.com.