i remember the first time i saw a trailer for Split in the movie theaters. i was with family and the theater was full and i’d been mildly enjoying the trailers and perked up a bit when the tell-tale ominous music of a horror movie trailer started, because i love good thrillers.

except then it was frame after frame after frame of a person with dissociative identity disorder being portrayed as everyone’s boogey man, the shrieks of the little girl protagonists as he appeared wearing different clothes and a different voice, people in the theater jumping and giggling every time they showed the man doing something horrific. and i felt frozen in my seat.

my sister leaned over to me when it was finished and said “i want to see that” with a look on her face like it was the greatest trailer she’d ever seen.

like it wasn’t a punch to my gut everytime i heard someone whisper “psycho” or “crazy” and other terrible things. like in that moment i didn’t feel like running away from all these people, like i didn’t feel unsafe and filthy. because these people getting their thrills from a demonizing potrayal of a mental illness.

and the thing is, it matters.

because if i bring it up people will say “oh but it’s not really mental illness, like depression or something. he was just fucking crazy which is totally scary haha”. yeah well, not haha. not haha because DID is a real mental illness but that’s not what it looks like. people with DID aren’t murderers or dangerous. but now, because movies like Split are all people have seen of illnesses like DID, that’s their frame of reference.

the media does it with DID, with schizophrenia, with every single personality disorder, with bipolar, with everything else that is “scary”. raising awareness for depression and anxiety is important, they’re valid and serious illnesses. but hardly anyone tries to protect people with “scary” disorders. this halloween when costumes of the main character crop up, people will giggle and buy it because it’s so creepy and cool.

i’m reminded that, although i don’t have DID, much of my mental illness is defined by symptoms that are used in other horror movies. that people who have “scary” disorders are the entertainment in everyone else’s world. and for people who do have DID, that movie is absolutely devastating.

so if you buy a ticket to see Split, please know that’s it’s not harmless entertainment or a good thrill. it’s fucking ableism and you’re being ableist if you go see it.

(please reblog, neurotypical or not)

In July 1924, eight-year-old Francis McDonnell was playing on his front porch, supervised by his mother who sat nearby. Soon after, McDonnell’s mother noticed a frail, elderly man standing in the middle of his street clenching and unclenching his fists all while muttering to himself. The man soon tipped his hat to her and disappeared. Later that day, the same man was spotted watching Francis and his friends playing. Francis was soon called over, and a neighbor reported him walking into a wooded area with the old man. When Francis missed dinner, his family knew something was up, leading his father to organize a search for the boy. Francis was later found under a pile of branches, his clothes torn and his suspenders having been used to strangle him. The boy was also beaten so badly that policemen believed the killer might have had an accomplice, since they couldn’t believe that a frail old man could have caused that much damage. However, the killer was never caught. 

Later, on February 11, 1927, four-year-old Billy Gaffney was playing with his three-year-old neighbor, who was also named Billy, outside of Gaffney’s apartment. A twelve year old neighbor went to join them, but was babysitting his little sister at the time, and when he heard her crying, he rushed back into his apartment to tend to her. When he finally joined them, he noticed that the two boys were missing. Upon telling the younger Billy’s father, a search was carried out, and the three-year-old Billy was found on the roof of the apartment building. When asked what happened to Gaffney, the three-year-old replied with “the boogey man took him.” The police ignored this explanation, and tried to look for Gaffney themselves, to no avail. As a last resort, they asked the three-year-old for a physical description of said “boogey man.” The boy claimed he was a slender old man with a gray mustache and gray hair. Police failed to recognize the correlation between this case and the 1924 McDonnell case. This connection wouldn’t be figured out until years later, when both crimes were connected to infamous serial killer and cannibal Albert Fish, also known as the “Boogey Man.

Here comes the boogeyman
Henry Hall
Here comes the boogeyman

Children, have you ever met the Boogeyman before?
No, of course you haven’t for you’re much too good, I’m sure;
Don’t you be afraid of him if he should visit you,
He’s a great big coward, so I’ll tell you what to do

Hush, hush, hush, here comes the Boogeyman,
Don’t let him come too close to you, he’ll catch you if he can.
Just pretend that you’re a crocodile
And you will find that Boogeyman will run away a mile.

Say “shoo shoo” and stick him with a pin
Boogeyman will very nearly jump out of his skin
Say “buzz buzz” just like the wasps that sting
Boogeyman will think you are an elephant with wings

Hush, hush, hush, here comes the Boogeyman
Tell him you’ve got soldiers in your bed
For he will never guess that they are only made of lead

Say “hush hush”, he’ll think that you’re asleep
If you make a lovely snore away he’ll softly creep
Sing this tune you children one and all
Boogeyman will run away, he’ll think it’s Henry Hall!

When the shadows of the evening creep across the sky
And your mummy comes upstairs to sing a lullaby
Tell her that the boogeyman no longer frightens you
Uncle Henry’s very kindly told you what to do

Hush, hush, hush, here comes the Boogeyman
Don’t let him come too close to you, he’ll catch you if he can.
Just pretend your teddy bear’s a dog
Then shout out, ‘fetch him, Teddy!’ and he’ll hop off like a frog.

Say “meoow”, pretend that you’re a cat
He’ll think you may scratch him that make him fall down flat
Just pretend he isn’t really there
You will find that Boogeyman will vanish in thin air

Here’s one way to catch him without fail
Just keep a little salt with you
and put it on his tail

Chapter 1.

Fandom: Mystic Messenger. 

Word count: Approximately 1,528 words.


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Ahhhh so honestly this idea came out while I was watching the movie with a friend of mine, and I decided to go for it. This is also like the fastest I have written out my thoughts. 

Enjoy! And I apologize for mistakes, English is not my first language. 


You used to believe that the monsters your mother told you about weren’t even real, that tales like the babadook or the boogey man were just invented. And that continued for a long time. Then you met them. And you met her.

They changed your mind about monsters. Yet, they helped you overcome some of your fears. You helped them in return, with their own secrets, monsters, fears and insecurities.

And it all started when you found the door.

You and the rest of your family had moved a month ago to the Pink Palace. It was a beautiful house owned by a very nice old lady, and as the name said, it was completely pink. The only problem was that the house was divided in parts.

There were four apartments, the one in the attic, above your flat, that’s where Mrs. Pancake lived. She was a nice lady, although a bit crazy about her fifty or so cats. A couple of artists lived in the flat below yours, they seemed calm and they were really nice, even if they were always rambling about a person or two.

There was another apartment next to yours, but that one was unoccupied. You hoped other kids would come soon, you couldn’t really talk or play with anyone.

And you were bored. When you asked, your father said that the tv and the rest of the things you used for fun would arrive until later that month.

However, good things sometimes replaced the boredom, like now. Your parents had assigned you to place the paintings and frames around the drawing room, to make it look as pretty as you were.

That’s when you found it for the first time, there was a door in the far corner of the drawing room. It was weird, not in a bad way, but something was different about that door… you couldn’t tell why.

It just gave you the chills and also an immense excitement to explore it.

So you tried to turn the door knob, but it wouldn’t budge, no matter how much you turned it, or applied force on it, it just wouldn’t open. Maybe if you bit it…

“_____? What are you doing, honey?”

You looked at your mom with a goofy grin in your face, while she just seemed amused and confused that you were about to bite the handle of a door. Even though it wasn’t the first crazy thing you had done.

“I want to see what’s inside mom! But I think the door is locked”.

Your mother laughed, crossing her arms and shaking her head. She looked a bit annoyed, but she was still smiling so you assumed her temper had to with work.

“Wait a second here, _____. I’ll go get the key”.

You plopped to the ground and sat as quickly as you could, looking back at the entrance of the drawing room with a smile on your face. Perhaps you would find the way to enter Narnia in there! Although that one was in a closet… wasn’t it?

When your mother came back, she had a black key in her hand. The key was probably bigger than your palm, black and shiny and it had something, like a black button, at the end. You took the key from your mother’s hands as she talked, and placed it in the keyhole, unlocking the door and opening it with excitement.

Only to be met with a brick wall.

A boring, red and awful, brick wall.

“I told you there was nothing there, sweetie”. Your mother said as she took the key away and placed it in her pocket. “I’m sure it led somewhere before the house was divided, but now it’s just… a door”.

She turned around, walking away from the spot you were sitting until she disappeared behind the walls and doors, probably on her way to the kitchen.

“Mom, you didn’t lock the door!”

Your mother replied back, and although it was a bit muffled, you understood what she meant to say clearly. 

“There’s no reason to lock a door that lead to nowhere”.

But what if it really led to Narnia?

Or perhaps it was magic, maybe the smurfs were behind it.

Or wizards!

Those kind of thoughts and more were the things that kept running through your head. Maybe there was a whole world behind that door, you just couldn’t see it. Theories, solutions, possibilities and other things constantly appeared throughout your whole day.

Next thing you knew, it was past midnight and you were still laying awake in your bed. You were counting the star stickers on the roof that glowed in the night, hopefully that would make you sleepy enough.


You sat up in bed immediately as you heard something, like little footsteps. You hoped it was just your imagination playing tricks on you.  


That was definitely not your imagination.

…. aaak

You moved a bit in your bed, grabbing your slippers and putting them on before getting out of your safe cocoon, made out of bed sheets. Opening the door that lead to the hall, you walked away from your room. On the way there, you passed by your parent’s bedroom, hearing the loud snoring ­– your father – and the occasional mumbled ‘shut up’ – that was your mother.


You were just starting to think it was a dream when you heard it again, the soft footsteps. They were coming from downstairs now.

You could admit now that you weren’t dreaming. And you had two options, face the monster that was probably the girl of The Ring and die. Or run back to your room and wait until it killed your parents to call the police.

Either of those involved blood and both were as stupid, if not more, than the other.

Convincing yourself that it was probably just the wind – and not some monster of the horror movies you loved – you walked down the stairs and into the main hall.

The moonlight seeped inside, providing you a way to look around. There was nothing there, not even bugs. You were already turning around to walk back up, back to your room, in hopes of actually getting some sleep now.

Then something moved.

It was not a shadow, or the wind, or dust. It was bigger, and longer than that. It moved down the main hall fast, like the tigers on the documentaries your father sometimes watches.

Please let it not be a rat, you weren’t so good with rodents.

Whatever that thing was, it ran into the drawing room, and you followed a bit nervously.

You were seriously preparing yourself to run and wake the neighbors if you saw something like IT inside there.

The room was pitch black except for a single ray of light that hit the middle of the space. You could see the… thing, underneath the coffee table. Now that you could somehow see a bit more of it, it looked like a cat. Except it was longer than a normal cat.

You stayed still next to the light switch, if it was anything like that horror video game you saw, once you turned the lights on you’d be safe.

The animal crawled away from the table, and ran towards the corner of the room while you fumbled between turning on the light and looking out for Annabelle.

It had ran towards the door in the far corner. You could see that now, there was nothing by that old door, unless that thing could go through bricks.

But the door was slightly open.

You swore you had closed it the day before, but you did it again, turned the lights off, and crawled back into your bed.

You had a very unusual dream that night, it was of a bunch of kids running around. The ones that looked very young ran and played in the garden outside your house. The others, the ones that looked more like adults, sat in the porch, talking, reading, and laughing.

You could also see a woman in the horizon, it seemed like she was looking directly at you. It made you feel uncomfortable.

Then, the woman disappeared, and you were suddenly surrounded by the kids.

Come visit us! Said the ginger kid.

We will have fun together. Said the blonde.

She is very nice. Said pretty boy.

This is paradise! Said the other ginger kid.

You could agree with that, it really looked pretty fun. But it was just a dream. However, you could hear someone whisper, and what they said confused you, a lot.

Don’t come.

It’s dangerous.

Stay away from the door.

It’s better that way.

The world in front of you went black, and you were falling

You woke up with a gasp.

That was a really weird dream, but it felt real. You were already starting to forget it, but it had something to do with a door. And you could still remember a bit of the kids in there, some of them had… unusual hair color. And the house! That was there too.

Just what was that all about?

You had no idea.