It started in autumn last year.
After our student flatshare was dissolved, I moved my furniture into another room in my parents’ house than what had been my children’s room. My new room was now on the ground floor instead of the first. But it was not used often, as I now had a flat where I live with my boyfriend. Nevertheless, every few weeks, about once a month or so, I visited my parents and slept in said room.
One cool autumn night, I was woken up by a soft knock. It sounded like someone knocking on wood. At first I heard it only very softly and irregularly, but I could make out that it must be coming from the direction of the window. At that time, I didn’t think anything of it, it was probably just our neighbour, a gifted tinkerer, once again assembling something.
On my next visit, I was awakened by these knocking noises again. This time it was louder and more regular. It would be a strange coincidence if our neighbour was again the source of the knocking. I listened a little closer and concluded that the noise must be coming from our garden. Sleepily I got up and went to the window, opened the blinds and risked a look outside. No one was there, the knocking had stopped. Maybe it was a woodpecker that had been startled by the sound of the blinds and had fled. Or I had only imagined the noise anyway, I thought to myself as I lay back in my warm bed.
The next morning, while having breakfast with my parents, I asked them if they had also heard that knocking last night. They both replied in the negative, which confirmed my assumption that I had only imagined the noise.
The next time, the knocking had become louder again. I tried to ignore it, but when I couldn’t fall asleep even after what felt like an eternity, I decided to check again, hoping this time to find the source of the noise. So I got up again, opened the blinds and froze for a second: the knocking had stopped like last night, but this time I saw a black silhouette standing by our fence. It stayed there for a few seconds, seemed to be watching me and then disappeared into the corn field that bordered our property. I don’t think I need to mention that I didn’t sleep a wink that night.
Over dinner, I asked my friend what he thought of my story. He said it was probably just my imagination and that the stress also contributed to it. It was true, I was really stressed at the moment, but was that why my mind was playing such tricks on me?
Some time passed before I stayed overnight with my parents again. Partly because of the above-mentioned incident. After my evening routine, I went to bed and tried to sleep, still thinking of the dark silhouette. When I woke up, the first rays of sunlight were already greeting me through the gaps in the blinds. Apparently, the events of the last few times had indeed been imaginary.
Relieved, I got up and looked forward to my breakfast after this restful night. On my way to the kitchen, I glanced around the garden. My name had been carved into the tree. I rubbed my eyes, somewhere inside me still slumbered the hope that I was imagining it. All at once, my joy after the quiet night was gone. The writing was still there. I called my parents to me. After they were finally at the window and I had prepared them for the sight, I myself turned my gaze back outside. The writing had disappeared.
Since it was a long weekend, I decided to spend another night here. Against all expectations, I was able to fall asleep quickly. This night the knocking had returned. It was again louder than last time, but the frequency was lower and the sound was different. This time it wasn’t wood, it almost sounded like… glass? I went to the window and opened the blinds, hoping that this would stop the knocking again. A mistake, as I then realised. In one leap I was back in my bed and pulled the covers over my head. There clearly was a face right at the window! I couldn’t see all the details, I had hidden myself too quickly. But the… thing, it didn’t stop knocking on the windowpane. After a few minutes, which seemed like hours, I pulled the blanket off my head and dared to look towards the window. The knocking had stopped, but the face was still there. Because of the darkness, I couldn’t make out much, except its deep black eyes with red pupils and his broad grin, which revealed his long pointed teeth. But as abruptly as the knocking had stopped, the face disappeared. During that sleepless night, I vowed never to sleep over at my parents’ house again, at least not for the foreseeable future.
This all happened a few weeks ago. I’m writing this story down because last night I heard that knocking once more. It was on glass again, I suspect it was the balcony door. My boyfriend couldn’t hear it when I woke him up. But this morning we found fingerprints on our balcony door that weren’t there yesterday. Outside. On the seventh floor. Anyway, my boyfriend believes me now. But neither he nor I can imagine what this creature wants from me. I don’t know how much time I have left. I don’t know where I’ll be safe from the creature. If there is a safe place anywhere at all.
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EDIT: My girlfriend asked me to let her write this post on my account (she doesn’t have one of herself) and I only found the time to read it today. She has been missing for two days now. I should have just believed her from the beginning. But even if I did, was there something we could have done to prevent the creature from getting her? Maybe there is someone here, who experienced something similar and got away. I won’t give up hope until I find her again.