The Knocking

I awoke suddenly to the repetitive falls of a hammer. Strangely, my first thoughts were of the nail being so hopelessly persecuted. Did it make any attempt to escape its doom? Did it feel the pain? Was it rendered numb after the first blow? Or, was it at peace; knowing its purpose—its reason for being—was being sovereignly fulfilled? Not a minute after first hearing the hammer, I realized that it was not the sound of a hammer at all. Knocking? Someone was at the door. Knock. Knock. Knock. The essence of persistence, I thought. I looked at my bedside clock; the one she gave me. It has been almost 14 months since… and I still haven’t been able to get rid of it. The clock’s red glow screamed 3:16 AM. Don’t they know what time it is? I was getting more and more irritable with every passing pound. Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock. “I’m sleeping!” I yelled just before burying my face in the pillow. Knock. Knock. Knock. There was only one way to end this.

I dragged myself from the bed, the cold air bit as I made my way down the creaky stairs to the front door. The knocking grew louder and faster as I approached. I reached the door, put my hand on the knob and waited. The metal knob felt like ice, sending a chill down my spine. Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock. With my initial twist of the knob the knocking ceased. I flung the door open hoping to catch whomever was responsible. Nothing. I took a step into the door frame and peered out toward the street. Everything was black and grey, eerily lit by a single street lamp. The lamp light was white, cold, and cast dreary shadows on the other houses. I was inclined to think that the dark neighborhood would have felt less foreboding if there had been no light at all. There was no one around. I shook off my uneasiness, closed the door and turned to be reunited with the sweet arms of my queen sized bed. I took about six steps. Knock. Knock. Knock. Every muscle in my body tensed; my mouth was dry as sand. I quickly moved to the door and flung it open. “What?” I screamed, “Leave me alone!” No one was there. I stood still for a moment; afraid to stay and afraid to go. The sky was starless; the moon was gone. I stood perfectly still, staring into the black sky. Knock. Knock. Knock. The knocking was back, louder and faster than ever. The sound was deafening. It seemed now to be coming from somewhere in the house. I ran to my den. The horrible pounding was now coming from the windows. There must be more than one person involved. “Stop!” My hoarse voice belted. “Stop! Stop! Stop!” I pleaded. The knocking grew louder, faster. The beating now seemed to flood the entire house, drowning out my own screams. Then—silence; silence and blackness.

I found myself on the floor. Had I fallen? I felt a throbbing in my chest as I lay on the floor, unable to move. My head swam as the pain grew from a deep throb to sharp stabs; unbearable stabs.

That was the last thing I remember.

Copyright 2008 © Jon Eckert