Midnight knocks

Just before midnight, at 11:59 p.m. a young couple Marissa and Jalen Holt finally climb into bed after their first exhausting week in their new home. Their property sits on a rural stretch of land with fifteen acres of empty woodland on both sides. No neighbors. No traffic. No noise. It had seemed peaceful when they bought it, the perfect escape from the city. But at night, that silence feels heavier, more watchful.

They pull the blanket over themselves, exchanging one last tired smile. The house creaks in that unfamiliar way new houses do, but they’re slowly growing accustomed to the shifting wood and whispering trees.

The moment they close their eyes

“a knock echoes through the house.”

A single, deliberate knock.

Not frantic. Not hesitant.

Just wrong.

Both freeze.

Marissa opens her eyes first. Jalen’s eyes are already on hers. Neither speaks. They both heard it.

Another knock. Louder. As if someone knows they’re awake.

Heart hammering, Marissa whispers, Who could be out here? No one even lives near us.

Jalen sits up slowly, jaw tightening. I don’t know.

He reaches into the drawer beside the bed and pulls out his gun. He tells her, Stay here.

She immediately climbs out of bed and grabs hers too.

He turns. “What are you doing?” he whispers harshly.

I’m not staying here alone, she whispers back. Just go. I’m scared.

He sighs. Fine. Stay behind me. And do exactly what I say.

They creep down the hallway, the old wooden floor complaining under their weight. The house feels colder somehow the air feels thicker.

Halfway to the front door Jalen stops abruptly.

Wait. What the hell are we doing? he mutters. *We have cameras.*

Marissa gasps. She had completely forgotten. They had installed a full surveillance system on move in day.

Let’s check, she says, already reaching for the wall-mounted screen near the living room.

She taps the panel with trembling fingers, cycling to the front porch camera.

A uniformed officer stands there.

Or someone dressed as one.

Relief floods her all at once. Oh my God… it’s the police.

Jalen’s shoulders relax only slightly. All right… let’s see what he wants.

He approaches the door cautiously. Yes, officer, we’re right here, he calls through the wood.

A calm voice responds, Evenin’. I’m Officer Santiago. Just doing a welfare check on the couple who live here.

Marissa exchanges a confused glance with Jalen. A welfare check? At midnight?

Jalen asks, Uh yeah, that’s us. Is everything okay?

May I come in? the officer asks.

His tone is gentle. Professional. But something in it feels a bit too smooth.

Jalen hesitates. Hold on.

He peeks at Marissa. She nods, trusting the situation now that a badge is involved.

Jalen unlocks the door. The man steps inside quickly, shutting it behind him. He presses a button on his shoulder radio and says, I have them right here in front of me. You can stand down.

Then he pockets the radio.

Please, sit, he says. Both of you.

The commandness in his voice is jarringly different from his earlier tone.

Marissa and Jalen share another glance, uneasy.

S-Sure, Marissa says, lowering herself onto the couch. Jalen sits beside her but never sets his gun down completely.

Don’t move, the officer says sharply.

They freeze.

Give me your phone, he orders.

Jalen starts to stand and hand it over, but the officer snatches it violently from Marissa, scraping the back of her hand and splitting two nails.

She winces. I can get them fixed

Shut up, he snaps.

Jalen sits forward instantly. Don’t talk to her like that

The officer steps forward aggressively. You wanna argue with me? Right now? In this situation? Think very carefully.

Jalen clenches his fists. If I wasn’t tired right now… he mutters under his breath.

What was that? the officer asks, leaning in.

Nothing, Jalen says tightly.

The officer smiles as if amused, then reaches into his bag. Marissa and Jalen both tense. He pulls out of all things a small portable speaker. A little JBL looking thing. He sets it on the table and presses play.

Soft, pulsing music fills the room slow, rhythmic, unsettling.

Then, shockingly, the officer begins to undo his shirt.

Wide eyed, Marissa blurts out, We don’t want to see this.

He continues unbothered.

Jalen mutters, What is happening right now?

The officer slides his shirt off one shoulder. I told you, he says calmly, this is a welfare check.

This is not Marissa starts, but he silences her with a glare.

Jalen stands, unable to help himself. Buddy, I swear if you don’t stop this

The officer tilts his head. You’ll what? You’re tied up.

But Jalen looks down his hands are free.

He frowns. We’re not tied

Oh, you will be, the officer says softly. Eventually. If you keep interrupting.

Marissa’s voice trembles. what do you want?

The man pauses mid-gesture, eyes drifting from one to the other. The music pulses like a heartbeat behind his words.

I want, he says slowly, to see how people behave when they’re frightened. When everything familiar disappears. When the rules fall apart.

Jalen takes a step back, positioning himself between the officer and Marissa. Look, man. Whatever this is it needs to stop. Right now.

Does it? the officer asks, raising one eyebrow. Or is this the first time either of you have felt truly awake in a long time?

The air grows suffocating. The music seems louder, though no one touched the speaker.

The officer smiles again but this time it’s wide, unnatural, too forced. Something inside it feels wrong. Almost inhuman.

Marissa grabs Jalen’s arm. Jalen… something’s off.

He doesn’t respond. His eyes are locked on the man’s grin.

The officer steps forward, slow and deliberate.

You bought a house in the middle of nowhere, he says. No neighbors. No traffic. No witnesses. And you thought nothing would find you here?

Jalen’s throat goes dry. Find us…? What does that mean?

The grin flickers into something else hungry, knowing.

Midnight knocks, he says, are never accidents.

The lights flicker.

The music distorts.

Something moves behind the officer a shadow stretching along the wall that doesn’t match his body’s shape.

Marissa gasps. Jalen tightens his grip on her hand.

The officer stands perfectly still, letting the shadow behind him grow. It crawls up the wall like spilled ink.

Then, in a voice no police officer would ever use, he says:

“Welcome to the neighborhood.”