It was trying to get in. But it needed permission. My permission. And I knew I shouldn’t give it, no matter what. If I acknowledged it was there, the results would not be pleasant. I could feel it in my stomach. The growing baby in my belly felt like it was trying to wiggle away from my dread. But there in the corner it continued to lurk…waiting. Looming in the corner. Knowing…if it was just a little more patient, eventually, I would have to get up and open the door and that would be all it needed. These darker beings did not rely on consent of words. The times they originated from required only actions. Although it was already in the room, it still needed me to open the door.
My eyes snapped open at the faint sound of sporadic knocking. My head popped up and I strained my ears. The cats running amuck in the night, perhaps? No. In the dark, I was still able to locate our felines, curled up in their usual places. Again, tiny raps on the bedroom door. There was no mistaking it. I wasn’t in the twilight of sleep. Someone was at the door, confirmed once more by one single quiet knock.
I shook my husband awake, straining my voice in a low whisper while also trying not to sound terrified, “Fred. Freddy, someone’s knocking at the door.”
His snoring ceased immediately as he woke himself, listening. Again. A single, gentle rap.
I was reassured that Freddy had heard it too as he scrambled out of the bed to the door. He reached for the light switch and flicked it on, bringing the slight comfort of harsh light in the 4’o’clock darkness.
He opened the door.
My father’s soft voice reached my ears. He was there with an early wake up call. One of his and Fred’s coworkers had just called in sick. There was no one else to cover so both men needed to start their morning early in order for work to run smoothly.
I’ve always loved a good ghost story.
The most effective ones do happen to be the ones that stick with you. Even more so are the one’s you’re really not sure if they are true or not. I’ve often ruminated over how everyone, even skeptics, love a good ghost story and it is human nature to share them. I wonder why this is such an impulse, but I love that it is there and can consistently be called upon all the same.
The one above was actually inspired by something that happened right after the Labor Day weekend. It just spilled out and I couldn’t help but share it.