MIDNIGHT KNOCKS

It was already past midnight when I heard the first knock on my door.

Who's there?

No answer. The wind howled outside, rattling the old wooden frames of my cabin. I hesitated before approaching the door, my heart racing.

Is someone out there? Do you need help?

Still, nothing. Just the eerie silence of the isolated forest that surrounded my home. I peered through the peephole but saw only darkness. My breath fogged the glass, and I wiped it clean with a trembling hand, trying to see any sign of movement outside.

The knock came again, louder this time, more insistent.

I reached for the flashlight on the table beside the door. The beam was weak and flickered sporadically, but I needed to see. I unlatched the door and cracked it open, the cold night air rushing in and sending a shiver down my spine.

Hello?

The darkness swallowed my words. I stepped out onto the porch, the wooden boards creaking under my weight. The forest loomed, dense and impenetrable, shadows shifting with the swaying trees.

I waited, straining to hear anything other than the wind. Then, from the depths of the forest, a sound—a low, guttural growl. My blood turned to ice as I realized it wasn't just the wind playing tricks on me.

I darted back inside and slammed the door shut, bolting it as fast as I could. The growl echoed in my ears, closer now, more menacing. I backed away, my mind racing. What kind of creature could be out there?

My phone! I fumbled through my pockets but remembered I had left it on the kitchen counter. I rushed to grab it, my hands shaking as I dialed the emergency number. The call wouldn't connect—no signal, of course. In this forsaken place, I was cut off from the world.

The growl came again, followed by the unmistakable sound of footsteps. Heavy, deliberate. They were just outside the door now. I could hear the wood groaning under their weight.

Is anyone there? Please, I need help!

The voice that responded was unlike any I had ever heard. It was a whisper, barely audible, but it sent chills down my spine.

Help. Yes. Come outside.

I froze. The voice seemed to echo inside my head, bypassing my ears. It was inviting and terrifying all at once. I knew I couldn't trust it, but the pull was almost irresistible. I took a step back, shaking my head.

No. I'm not coming out.

A sinister laugh resonated through the walls of my cabin, and the footsteps receded, disappearing into the forest. The silence that followed was even more unsettling. I was alone again, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something—or someone—was watching me.

I bolted all the windows and drew the curtains, trying to block out the oppressive darkness outside. I knew I wouldn't sleep that night. Every creak and groan of the old cabin would keep me on edge, waiting for the next knock, the next sign that I wasn't alone.

Hours passed, and the first light of dawn began to filter through the gaps in the curtains. I slumped in a chair, exhausted but too afraid to close my eyes. The events of the night replayed in my mind, a constant loop of terror and confusion.

Just as I began to think the worst was over, I heard it again.

The knock.

Just as I began to think the worst was over, I heard it again.

The knock.

This time, I didn't hesitate. I sprang from the chair, muscles taut with fear and exhaustion. My hand hovered over the doorknob, a part of me longing to fling it open and confront whatever was out there, another part screaming to stay away, to hide.

I didn't open the door. Instead, I pressed my ear against the cold, rough wood, trying to discern any sound, any clue as to what might be waiting on the other side.

Silence.

Then a whisper, faint and fleeting:

Open. Let me in.

I staggered back, my resolve crumbling. My mind raced, trying to make sense of the situation. Was I losing my sanity? Was this some cruel trick played by the isolation and my own mind?

I needed clarity. I needed to know. But I couldn't bring myself to open the door. Instead, I stumbled to the small, dusty bookshelf in the corner. I pulled a thick volume on local folklore and legends, hoping to find some explanation, some connection to what was happening.

Flipping through the brittle pages, I found reference after reference of forest spirits, malevolent entities that thrived on fear and despair. But nothing concrete, nothing that fit my situation exactly. My eyes were drawn to a passage about a creature that mimicked human voices to lure its victims. My heart sank as I read the description—dark, shapeless, always watching.

The knock came again, sharp and impatient. I looked up from the book, my breath catching in my throat. The sinister laugh that had haunted me through the night echoed once more, but this time, it was inside the cabin, surrounding me, suffocating me.

Help me. Please, open the door.

The voice was no longer outside. It was inside my head, insistent, relentless. I clutched at my temples, trying to block it out, but it grew stronger, more commanding.

Let me in. I need your help.

I dropped the book and ran to the kitchen, grabbing a knife from the drawer. My hand trembled, but I held it out, ready to defend myself. The laughter grew louder, more frenzied, filling every corner of the cabin.

Come outside. You can't hide forever.

Desperation clawed at me. I couldn't stay here, couldn't let the madness consume me. But stepping outside felt like walking into my own grave. I backed into a corner, the knife my only comfort.

Then, the front door creaked open on its own, a slow, deliberate movement. The darkness outside seemed to seep into the cabin, swallowing the weak morning light. A figure stood silhouetted in the doorway, shapeless and menacing.

I couldn't breathe, couldn't move. The figure stepped inside, its presence overwhelming, oppressive. The knife slipped from my hand, clattering to the floor.

Help. Yes, help me.

The last thing I saw was the figure closing the door behind it, sealing me inside with my own terror. The last thing I heard was the sinister laugh, echoing in the darkness, as the world faded into oblivion.

And then, there was nothing.

Victor Hal

Venture into the depths of darkness and fear with Victor Hal, your storyteller of haunting secrets and supernatural dread.