Member-only story
When Death Knocks
It’s not always what it seems…
The three large thuds shook him out of bed. The room was void of light and his eyes could barely adjust. He sat upright, perched on the edge of his bed, and gathered that it must have been the early hours of the morning, long before the sun would make its rounds. He didn’t need to wake up for some time but had no intention of quickly returning to whatever dream disturbed his slumber. No, even just for a moment, he would sit in silence, warding off the loud sounds — the remnants of a bad dream. And when ready, he’d drift back off.
Boom!
Boom!
Boom!
These three were louder — more forceful than the last and he definitely was not asleep. Afraid, he turned on the lights and searched for something, anything that he could use for his protection. He couldn’t imagine who it could be at this time and had no intention of letting anyone in. He imagined a crazy killer at the door and grabbed an old baseball bat that he kept in the bedroom closet. He clutched it tighter with each step towards the front door. Slowly, he pulled the latch on the peephole and hesitantly gazed outside. He couldn’t make out the figure standing in the dark. They made no movements or adjustments, as the man conducted his assessment.
