Bonzo and the Boogeyman

Whoopsie! Could have sworn I already posted this, but apparently I didn't. Here it is, then. Pretend it's April 30.

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They sat in the bedroom. Bonzo rested by the bed, though the bed was gone. The boogeyman crouched in the empty closet, but he kept the door open for companionship.

“Where did they go?” said Bonzo. She was thinner now, her coat shaggy. She ate rats and lizards and bugs.

“Does it matter?” asked the boogeyman. Without the children, he was fading away. Sometimes they closed the closet door and Bonzo barked wildly at it, but it wasn’t the same.

“We could go find them.”

The boogeyman considered this. “We shouldn’t have to,” he said. “They shouldn’t have left us.”