It had been three days since the knocking that kept Evelyn up at night began. Having been a NYC girl all her life and only recently moving to Pennsylvania, Evelyn had quickly adjusted to calm, silent nights. The only lights were the stars in the sky and the occasional streetlamp. The only sounds were autumn leaves rustling and the gentle hum of the furnace in the basement. So, when the knocking joined the suburbian night’s orchestra, she noticed it immediately. At first, she thought it was a woodpecker. Knock-knock-knock, then a pause. _Knock-knock-knock. _Sometimes, the sound was accompanied by the cracking of branches. By the third night, Evelyn decided the woodpecker had overstayed its welcome. “James,” she whispered, “what’s that noise?” Her husband had the uncanny ability to sleep anywhere and through anything - a skill she attributed to his years of being a commercial pilot. “James,” she said again, nudging his shoulder lightly, “what’s that?” He mumbled something incoherent, then yawned and opened his eyes all at once. “What?” “The noise!” “What noise?” “This noise! The knocking!” Evelyn hissed, growing frustrated. James groaned, pulled on his glasses, and switched on the bedside lamp. “I don’t know. I guess I can check the basement.” “I think it might be a bird,” Evelyn suggested. “I was cleaning up a little down there a few days ago, and it might’ve gotten trapped or something.” “Highly doubt that. Most likely a raccoon. Though they usually prefer attics. I’ll take a look.” “I’ll go with you.” James grabbed a flashlight from the bedside table. “Just in case.” The couple made their way to the basement. Evelyn tried to turn on the light, but it didn’t work. The thin beam from the flashlight was the only comfort she could get, and this made her uneasy. “Let’s just check in the morning,” she whispered. “We’re already here. Let’s just take a look for a piece of mind. You’ll sleep better. I promise I’ll fix the light in the morning,” James reassured her. The flashlight’s beam swept across the basement, moving from corner to corner, up and down. Suddenly, the knocking intensified. Evelyn clamped her hands over her ears, terrified by the deafening sound. “I don’t think it’s a woodpecker,” she whimpered. “Or a raccoon, either.” The knocking stopped abruptly. “A woodpecker?” A raspy, unpleasant voice laughed. “A raccoon? Seriously?” James aimed the torchlight at an old refrigirator near the utility room door. On the top of it sat a creature. The beam caught its red, swollen eyes, its skin glistening with ooze and filth. “I was wondering when you’d give up and finally come downstairs. Took you long enough! Last time, it was only about five hours or so, if I’m not mistaken.” The creature jumped off the fridge and stepped closer to James. “Let’s play a game,” it said with a sneer. “Guess what I am.” “You’re a monster!” James screamed. The creature tsked, shaking its head. “Wrong.” A deep cut appeared on James’ neck, and thick, dark liquid poured out, speeding up. His eyes widened as he collapsed to the floor, trembling. “Now,” the creature said, turning to Evelyn, “your turn, sweetheart. What am I?” Evelyn sobbed. “No, no, no,” the creature chided. “No crying. You wouldn’t want to spoil the last moments of your dear significant other’s life, would you?” It placed its long, bony fingers around Evelyn’s neck. Its breath reeked of blood and soil. “Say my name,” it whispered. “Th-the… the devil!” Evelyn cried out. The creature smiled, baring sharp teeth. “Finally got it right.” Blood streamed down Evelyn’s neck.

You never know. You never know when it’s the last time you walk on the streets of the city you grew up in. When, for the last time, you buy your favourite buns in that small bakery around the corner that always smells of cardamom and anise. When you get that flat white that tastes of fresh bread and walnut from a barista who doesn’t even ask your order anymore. When you visit that one place with tall street lights right across the theatre you used to visit a lot when you were a kid. You never know when it’s the last time you see your elders. When you drink that last cup of tea with milk, sitting across your grandma. She was always stubborn, know-it-all, and annoying, but now you miss her. You never know when it’s the last time you see your parents. One morning, you go to school, angry with your dad over a small thing - I think he asked you to wear a sweater because it was cold outside - and in the evening, your mom tells you he died at work from a stroke. He wasn’t the best dad, however, you still miss him and wonder what could’ve been if only he stayed alive and saw you through your teen years to the adulthood. As for mom, one day, you go together for a trip to Prague, and the next day you pack your suitcases to leave to the US for good. Then, a couple years later, you leave the US to move to Canada, for good also. She visits you six years later in Canada, and you can’t help but wonder if it was the last time this time. You never know when it’s the last time of this. You never know when it’s the last time of that. You never know when it’s the last time. You. Never. Know.