The Cobbler and the Boogieman.

One day, the old cobbler was alone in her mending shop. Her shop was old and wooden. Wooden beams stretched across the ceiling and old wooden shelves held up all her extra materials for mending and sewing. She had an old cash register on an old wooden worktop. In the corner was a warm open fire where she’d sit on a stool, remove her shoes and sew and mend people’s shoes. The shoes were glad of the freedom and hopped all around the back of the shop unknown to the cobbler. This day, the clouds thickened outside. A wind howled and suddenly the door opened ferociously. She jumped with fright and closed it again. Thunder and lightning soon followed. The shoes peeked out from the back of the shop, terrified. ‘Oh dear, it’s awfully dark in here with this dark day. Now, where did I put that box of candles?’ said the old cobbler to herself groaning, as she stood up from her chair. ‘My bones are getting stiff in my old age.’ She had a route around under the worktop and found them. She lit many and the shop was bright again. ‘Oh isn’t this cosy?’ she thought to herself. She sat back down and no sooner had she done so when a gust of wind again blew the door open. A few candles blew out and she could make out a dark figure standing in the doorway. ‘Come in and shut the door will you?’ she said as she gestured with her hand. The figure didn’t move. Then a flash of lightning lit up the whole shop and the old woman screamed as the figure in the doorway was lit up. It was the Boogieman! The old cobbler ran to the back of the shop. The Boogieman was dark and had long nails, shaggy hair and a dark hairy body. He was rarely seen and only spoken of in myths. ‘Hello, are you the cobbler woman?’ asked the Boogieman. ‘YES’ replied a voice from behind the worktop. ‘I would like you to repair my shoes please.’ He said. ‘Shoes?’ thought the cobbler. She stood up and looked at the man again. He lit the candles that had blown out. ‘I’m sorry about that.’ He said. I didn’t mean to linger in the doorway. I’m not used to a friendly reception so I didn’t want to startle you.’ ‘That’s alright’ said the cobbler a little more at ease with him now. ‘You see, I need shoes to dance. That’s why I’m called the Boogieman. My shoes have worn and I can no longer dance.’ He said. ‘I’ve hidden for many years just dancing alone as people look at me and think I’m scary and spread rumors that I live under beds or in wardrobes.’ ‘Oh that is sad, I am terribly sorry for running and hiding on you, I too had heard the rumors and it was wrong of me to judge. Please, let me mend your shoes and you can dance for me then.’ The Boogieman’s eyes lit up. ‘Oh thank you!’he exclaimed. She sat by the fire and began mending with some leather and new soles. The Boogieman lit the rest of the candles. Soon the shoes were mended. ‘Here you go, good as new.’ The Boogieman put the shoes on and began to tap dance. Oh he was exceptionally good at dancing. Her own shoes tapped along quietly ‘I am so glad you’ve stopped by.’ said the cobbler. ‘You mustn’t be a stranger. You are most welcome to come and dance again.’ ‘Oh you are kind.’ He nodded and bowed and went on his way. Then as the weather brightened, the woman decided it was time to go home.