Knock…

…Knock

…Knock

..Who’s.. there..?

I sat by my wooden desk, crimson-red eyes fixated on the paper before me. The cozy room had a similar dim glow of light, the flame on the candle’s wick flickering occasionally. Outside, raindrops splattered onto the window’s glass panel, and the wind howled loudly as if it were a wolf finding its pack, yet the glass stood strong, refusing to collapse. 

I clutched my bright red quill in my right hand, resting my chin on my other hand, lost in deep thought. 

It was the night of my 20th birthday — around 10:30 pm right now. My parents and sister had come over during the afternoon to celebrate my birthday, as I wanted a smaller celebration this year. I’d bid them farewell and good night around 30 minutes ago.

My eyelids were slightly heavy, and I spaced out constantly; despite that, I was still waiting. Very patiently. 

I was a sly child then and had stayed up to midnight reading books. It was all a normal midnight, a newly turned 8-year-old girl lying on her bed, sneakily smiling at a bundle of pages. The night wasn’t normal, however. The child jolted at a sound from the door, which she identified as three knocks. Her feet hit the ground as she slid down the bed, wary and frightened. 

“Hello..?” She squeaked, eyes wide with fear. Her hands, still tightly clutching a small stuffed bunny, reached up, grabbing ahold of the cold, bright handle. The door creaked open, and two little red eyes peeked outside. She shivered; there was nothing outside the door, much less a person. Maybe she could’ve been dingdong ditched? Who would be up at this time, though?

Hurriedly, she shut the door and then sprinted as if her life depended on it to her bed, her rather short legs springing onto the bed. She flung the blanket over her, blowing out the nearby candle and pretending to be asleep. Adrenaline flowed through her body, her heart pounding against her chest. Am I cursed?

I probably am cursed. This has been happening for ages now (okay, I lied, it wasn’t ages but it started on my 8th birthday and— you get my point, yeah, it feels like a curse.) Every time the knocks appeared on my birthday, I’d find no one at my door. 

Or maybe I’m just going crazy and I’m just imagining these knocks. Who knows? I sometimes ponder about whether I need therapy or not, too. 

I moved my quill, capturing my thoughts on the paper in the blue journal like it was a picture-worthy sight. A paragraph was soon completed, and I smiled at the paper…

.

..

…!

I jumped, and sudden air filled my lungs, making my breath and heartbeat uncontrollably fast. My hand flew up to cover my chest, attempting to calm myself down. My head throbbed. Did I fall asleep? I think I did. Shoot. 

My head snapped towards my clock, checking the time. OH! 11:49 pm, I didn’t miss it. 

I looked in the nearby mirror and saw that my hair had become a mess. “Oh, good grief,” I muttered, my fingers threaded through my dirty blonde hair. Once I was satisfied with it, my hands clamped together, one thumb caressing the veins on the dorsal side of my hand. The familiar rush of adrenaline filled my body, making it restless. My legs bounced up and down in a mix of anxiety and excitement. The clock ticked 11:54, 11:55, 11:56…

I shut my journal, dipped my quill into its ink, and took a deep breath. I’m ready.

Except it wasn’t quite right; everything was too quiet to be real. The moment of silence is scaring me right now. I jolted, a shiver running down my spine.

Knock, knock, knock, came the knocks. I stalked towards the door, suddenly feeling like I was pulled back into my 8-year-old body. Wary, hesitant, and frightened, but with it now comes anxious yet excited. My hands reached toward the cold handle, and I took a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

The door creaked open again, and a fresh aroma filled my nostrils. Confusion settled in my senses; this had never happened before.

I looked up and met a pair of bright aqua eyes. A man was at my door, holding a bouquet of roses. “Missed me, beautiful?”