A few weeks ago, I moved to a sleepy little town called Meadow Lakes in Alaska about an hour north of Anchorage. I’ll admit, as a software developer I never thought I’d be living in a remote town in Alaska, seemingly a thousand miles from nowhere, but I just couldn’t refuse the offer. This hot new AI startup based in none other than San Francisco was looking to break new ground by gathering real-world data from remote regions of the world that have been mostly untouched by technology. The project pitch certainly sounded interesting to me, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit the main driver was a free house and a quarter-million-dollar salary.
The move couldn’t have been easier too. I still lived with my parents, so there wasn’t much for the movers to page up and take to the new house, and my amazing new salary meant I could realistically buy whatever I needed once settled in any way. It was a two-day trip from the East Coast to Anchorage, from which I simply had an hour’s drive to my new residence.
When I finally arrived around noon on the second day of my travel, I was pleasantly surprised to find that not only did all my stuff make it to the house, but it was fully furnished as well. A kitchen full of appliances, a living room with a sectional and recliner (admittedly, I only cared about the recliner), but the only thing missing was a bed. Not a big deal for me since I was known to fall asleep in my chair back home anyway – no sense changing habits now.
Just as I had come back downstairs from touring the rest of my new house, which was entirely too big for a bachelor such as myself, I heard a knock at the door. Upon answering the knock, I was greeted by a rather skinny, middle-aged man with dark gray hair and one of the goofiest smiles I had ever seen. “Good morning mister!” the man said cheerfully. “You must be the newcomer everyone’s been talking about. Anyway, my name’s Lenny, Lenny Stringer, and I’m your neighbor just next door. Feel free to stop by and ask for anything, anything at all!” Lenny said in the sweetest demeanor, with almost childlike innocence about him. Then, Lenny’s face immediately switched to a more serious look, “And most importantly, do not under any circumstances answer the door at 12:04.”
After exchanging pleasantries with Lenny, I mentioned that I was tired from all the traveling, but I’d connect with him later in the week. Not answering the door at 12:04 seemed oddly specific, though Lenny did seem rather in some ways, so perhaps he was just warning me about people causing trouble late at night – this was a rather remote region of the country after all.
I had spent the remainder of the day unpacking the few boxes of things I had moved from my parents’ house just to get it all out of the way. If I hadn’t done so immediately, then anything left in a box would probably stay that way. The sun had set at this point in the day, and I was settled into my new recliner dozing off.
It felt as if my eyes had only been closed for five minutes when I jumped awake, nearly falling out of my chair, at the sound of a loud banging on the front door. Without thinking, I quickly walked over and opened the door. “You didn’t even look at the time, did you?! Do you want to ruin your life?” Lenny said in an oddly terrified voice. Whatever nonsense he was spewing at this point, he certainly seemed to believe it.
“Alright, Lenny. I’ll pay close attention to the time next time.” I said in a rather condescending and annoyed tone. Lenny walked away with a nod as I closed the front door and made for my chair in the living room. Although Lenny’s interruption was rather irritating, I’ve always had a knack for quickly falling back to sleep more often than not. This time must not have been much different from the usual, because I barely remember reclining my chair before passing back out.
Knock. Knock. Knock. I was once again yanked out of a deep slumber by the sound of someone ham-fist knocking at my front door. This time, I looked at my watch, and sure enough, it said “12:04 AM.” Clearly, Lenny was committed to whatever fantasy was going on in his mind, but my patience was wearing thin, and I fully planned on letting him know exactly how I felt about getting woken up by nonsense twice in the same night.
A few minutes later, I decided to walk up to the door and say, “Lenny, I know it’s you. I remembered your silly warning about 12:04, so there, I waited to answer. Now can you stop knocking on my door so I can get some damn peace and quiet?!”
The knocking had immediately stopped, and there was nothing but silence. Completely uninterested in seeing Lenny’s face again, I turned back towards the living room. Upon taking the first step away from the front door, I heard a chilling voice that seemed like it was Lenny, “Please. Please, I’m not playing this time. Something is wrong. I… I don’t feel right.”
Annoyed at how much I cared about a man I had only just met less than a day ago, I opened the front door. Except, there was no one around. I flicked on the flood light, and there were no signs of movement in any direction. “This needs to stop, Lenny!” I yelled in both anger and frustration. Upon receiving no response, I backed up into the kitchen and slammed the door shut. I told myself if Lenny knocks again, I’m immediately going to call the police and let them sort it out.
Upon turning around, it felt like my heart stopped as my eyes caught sight of a dark figure rushing towards me. Before I could react, something hit me in the head, and everything cut to black. I awoke the next morning on the kitchen floor with a hell of a headache, but my primary focus was immediately dialing 911 and connecting with the local sheriff. I told the sheriff about my neighbor attacking me in my own home last night, and to my surprise, he was there with a few other squad cars in about 15 minutes.
As I frantically started explaining to the sheriff about Lenny, his stupid greeting/warning, and the fact that he attacked me in my own home, the sheriff cut me. “There’s a lot to unpack here.” said the sheriff in an authoritative but understanding voice. “You’ll want to come to the station to clarify a few things, submit an official statement, and sign some paperwork. I can drive you.”
This seemed a little odd to me, but who was I to question a small-town sheriff? After all, he and his team were quite responsive to my call. When we arrived at the station, the sheriff said, “First thing’s first. We need to make sure we’re looking for the right guy. Look at this screen over here and point to the man who attacked you if you will.” The computer screen he pointed to seemed relatively modern, but the photos currently being displayed on it looked as if they were taken by a retro camera. Regardless, it was clear as day which one was Lenny, so without much thought, I pointed straight at his picture.
“I see…” said the sheriff in a concerned voice. “I’ll be right back.”
I immediately began to wonder if Lenny wasn’t who he said he was or perhaps he was someone who had been wanted for quite some time. None of the scenarios running through my mind had prepared me for the old newspaper the sheriff handed me. Lenny’s picture was on the front page clear as day, but the headline read, “Local Man Lenny Stringer Brutally Murdered In His Own Home.” Further down it continues with, “…around 12:04 AM, neighbors reported yelling and screaming… no suspects have been named.” I could immediately feel the color draining from my face. Was this some sort of sick joke the town liked to play on newcomers to scare them off? This couldn’t possibly be real.
Sensing my disbelief, the sheriff broke the silence, “Yeah, this was a famous case back in the day. Poor Lenny was barely recognizable when they found him. They never did catch who done it, mainly because no one knew who’d do that to Lenny. No need to worry though, that happened a hundred years ago today. Even if the killer was a toddler at that point, they’re dead and gone by now.”
After this ridiculous story from the sheriff, I decided to ask for a ride home. Upon my arrival, I immediately started researching this Lenny nonsense. There was no way what they were telling me was real. And yet, every news outlet I landed on seemed to confirm the sheriff’s recollection which was far more chilling than the town potentially being out to get me.
As previously stated, this was a few weeks ago now. I haven’t been attacked, nor have I seen any sign of Lenny since that day I talked to the sheriff. Credit where credit is due, I’m likely attack-free since I now heed Lenny’s warning. Every night when I receive a knock at the door at 12:04 I ignore it. No matter what sounds are on the other side, I refuse to answer no matter who is asking. And before you recommend simply abandoning the job and moving, this happens to me everywhere now. I dread the day when I accidentally answer the door at this godforsaken time and find out what happens when I slip up a second time.