KNOCK KNOCK

The whole goddamn reason I moved out here is so that no one could knock on my door.

First off, this woke me up. I was having a great snooze in my easy chair with Pumpkin on my lap, feet up on the ottoman. The television flickered in the living room, lighting up the walls with a blue, pulsing glow.

KNOCK KNOCK

Secondly, there is a big, plain, obvious sign on the front of my door that says NO SOLICITING - THAT MEANS YOU! How could I make it any more clear that you’re not welcome? All my family is scattered across the U.S. My good buddy, Gary, lives an hour away in the suburban sprawl down in the foothills. He wouldn’t show up unannounced. Whoever this was, it wasn’t somebody I knew. Hell, everyone who knows me knows that I like to be left alone.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

And lastly, who in the hell would be at my front door, period? My house is far off the beaten path. When my realtor, Barbara, told me about it, I grabbed it up sight unseen, and haven’t regretted it one bit. My dirt drive winds down, all over the place, back and forth like a snake, for at least two miles before it reaches an actual paved road. I don’t need to tell you that there was no reason for anybody to be out here.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Pumpkin had already bolted off my lap when she heard the first knocks. I used my arms to lift myself out of the warm, comfy chair. My knees cracked and snapped, and it took me a minute to fully stretch out to standing. I grabbed my shotgun off the wall and walked to my door. Didn’t think I’d need one, so I didn’t install a peep hole. Now I was wishing I had.

“Who is it?” My voice sounded grumbly and grouchy, but I also heard something in it that I didn’t like. Fear.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

“Who the hell is it?”

I put my ear to the door and felt the coldness of the night outside. I heard nothing, but that didn’t mean there was nothing there. It just meant that whatever - whoever - was there was trying not to make any noise.

“I swear to God, either tell me who you are, or-“

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

It was then that I realized the knocking wasn’t coming from my front door, but from my kitchen. I headed towards the sound.

The sight of my pantry door made me feel nauseous and dizzy. I kept the it latched so that Pumpkin couldn’t get in and steal treats, like she loves to do.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

With every knock the door jiggled and the metal latch jumped in its hook.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

“I’ve got a gun!” I could hardly get the threat out, my throat was so dry. My voice was trembling, along with my hands. And that was saying something, because my hands usually shake pretty bad, like a chihuahua in winter.

Then silence. I pointed my rifle at the door. “Tell me who you are or I’m gonna shoot!”

I know I know, would I really shoot? If someone didn’t answer me was I honestly going to blow a hole in my pantry door? I have no idea, but get off my back about it because I was scared and that was the first thing that came to mind.

From inside the pantry came a laugh. Now, to hear any laughter from behind my latched pantry door at night in the middle of nowhere, that’s scary enough. But to hear THIS laugh, I can’t even tell you how wrong and terrible it was. All the blood in my body went cold.

You know those monks who sing and do those chants, where they kind of provide their own harmony? I don’t know how to explain it, but they do something with their throats to allow them to produce two separate tones? I saw it on a documentary once, and it was pretty freaky. I even tried it myself, I’m not ashamed to admit. You would have, too. No success, and Pumpkin just looked at me like I’d lost my mind.

Anyway, THAT is what the laugh sounded like. It sounded like a choirboy hitting a high note, right alongside the sound that my old gas-powered leaf blower makes when it starts up. Both tones at once, both pitches perfectly aligned with each other. Another laugh and all the hairs on my arms stood up. There was no way this was a human.