Jim stared at the words on the screen and sat back in his leather back chair. He reached forward and grabbed his tumbler of imported scotch and took a sip. The taste of the liquor on his lips felt refreshing and the sensation it gave him was the sensation of ease. He set down the glass on the desk folded his hands across his chest and sighed. He was stuck and needed some inspiration for his horror novel.

Standing up from the desk he flipped off the light and headed downstairs to make himself a sandwich.

Standing at the counter he pulled some sandwich meat out of the fridge along with a tomato, lettuce, mayo, and cheese. He began to assemble his sandwich, and his mouth began to water. He loved his nighttime snacks before bed and helped him sleep. He poured himself a glass of water and sat down at the chair at the counter to eat before bed. He was about to take a bite when he heard a light tap on the front door.

_Who could possibly be here at this time of night _he thought to himself. He hadn’t told anyone he was here. Not that he had a lot of friends, he was reclusive and didn’t like people around especially when he was writing. He turned back to his sandwich when there was another rap on the door, only this time it was louder. He set the sandwich down and turned towards the door and now the knocking became a banging. He went to the drawer near the sink and pulled out a small meat hammer and went to the door.

Standing at the door he raised the hammer and yelled “Who’s there.”, there was no answer, so he asked again, still no answer. He stood there for a second and then he heard what sounded like a voice, but it was so soft he couldn’t understand what the person was saying. He put his ear closer to the door and heard the voice whisper louder “You know who I am.”.

Jim stepped back with a look that showed shock and fear. He recognized that voice, but it wasn’t possible and then he heard it again, “You know who I am.”. This time he was sure he recognized it; it was his brother, but he passed away in a car accident five years ago.

“John is that you?”, he asked, “Yes, it should have been you.”. Jim stood back and the thoughts came back to him, but his brother would never say anything like that. It was five years ago, and he had been working on his first novel. His mother had called and asked him to pick her up from the store, but he was busy and told his brother he needed to go. On the way to the store a drunk driver had swerved into his lane and his brother had swerved to miss him but lost control and hit the center barrier, he was killed on impact.

Jim began to sob and said “I’m sorry bro. I know I should have been the one to get mom, but I was too absorbed in my writing. It became so important to me.”. There was silence after he said that and then the voice spoke again and said, “Thank you, but that’s not it.”.

Jim thought for a second and said, “Then what could it be?”. You let me marry that crazy woman and she drove me crazy up until the day I died, and I’ll never forgive you. I’m going to haunt you for the rest of your life because of that asshole.”. Jim laughed and opened the door, but there was no one there. Even in death his brother had a sense of humor.