There’s Someone In My Town Who Knows Things He Shouldn’t.
I don’t have a whole lot of time. I feel myself slipping more and more as the days go by. Kind of like when you’re sick, you know? How you’ll be for the most part just kind of woozy and then out of nowhere you’re completely overwhelmed by the nausea? How you go from functional, lucid human being to some shriveling pile of skin and bones hunched over a toilet?
It’s kind of like that. Kind of like being sick.
“Knock Knocks” dead. I killed him. Well, I didn’t really kill him, but he’s dead because of me. So, what’s the difference?
I took your guy’s advice. Who’d have thought a bunch of strangers on the internet would have the answers that our established police force didn’t? I know when I’m wrong, and I can admit when I’m wrong, and I was wrong to dismiss some of you so quickly. I apologize for that. For what it’s worth. Maybe nothing now. Maybe everything if you listen to my warning. I owe it to you.
I feel myself slipping more and more as the days go by. Kind of like when you’re sick, you know?
Shit, that’s right. You do know. I just told you.
No one. NO ONE could find “Knock Knock.” It wasn’t for lack of trying though. The police looked everywhere. Every known homeless hangout, every cheap motel with crack pipes in the sink, every abandoned house and wooded lot. He’d just come around with these horrible gifts and completely vanish. Like the Santa Claus no one was excited to see.
But when you’re afraid to even go to the bathroom. When you’re stuck in the darkness of your house for days on end, hardly eating, hardly sleeping. Not even wanting to leave your chair out of fear for your life all you can do is think right? And I did A LOT of freaking thinking. A lot of reading tooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Mostly just thinking. Mostly just thinking.
But then it hit me!
No one knows where “Knock Knock” goes, but you ALWAYS know where “Knock Knock” is! It’s that fucking laugh of his. That endless, awful laugh he laughs. You can hear it from a mile away.
And two nights ago, I heard it!
It was probably 2:30 in the morning. I don’t know maybe earlier, maybe later, maybe earlier. It’s all blurring together now and it’s hard to focus.
I heard him coming up my quiet little street. Waking everyone up with that wild cackle he’s got, and I don’t know. Something just came over me. I don’t know if it was fear, or courage, or desperation, but something in me knew that it was time to act.
I acted alright.
I came running out of my house like a bat out of hell. All I had was my dad’s old .38. Didn’t have my pants on, or my shoes. Same shirt I’ve been wearing for almost a week now, but you can’t blame me, and you can’t blame me for still being in the same shirt as I type this out to you guys. It’s just kind of like when you’re sick, you know? How you’ll just be kind of woozy and then . . .
Yes! You know! You know! You know! You know!
“Knock Knock” was on my neighbors’ porch. He hadn’t knocked on the door yet, and I couldn’t see what was in his hands, but I didn’t care. I went sprinting across the street and grabbed him by that stupid mildew-soaked trench coat and yanked him around with every bit of strength I had.
Have you ever heard someone laughing while caught off guard at the same time? Creepy fucking guy.
He grabbed at me. Sort of instinctually I guess, and kind of pushed as I pulled and we both went tumbling through the porches wooden banister and over the side. A good four- or five-foot drop. I don’t know how I managed to do it, but I was able to sort of spin around as we were in that kind of free fall state. When we hit the ground I was on top of him, and my ears were ringing. I guess there was a moment when we initially hit the banister where that old .38 just kind of went off in my hand.
I didn’t feel it in my hand as I tried to scramble myself from off of “Knock Knock”. So, I must’ve dropped it on the porch.
I had to have dropped it on the porch, right? If I didn’t drop it on the porch, it would’ve been somewhere else.
Sorry, it’s just so hard to stay straight with this. It’s like when you’re sick you know. How you’ll be for the most part just a little woozy and then get completely overwhelmed by nausea?
I won’t lie to you guys I turned around with the full anticipation of killing “Knock Knock” right there with my bare hands. Stomping on his head until there was nothing left. Punching those lazy eyes into the back of his skull. Strangling that incessant laughter forever.
But as it turns out I wouldn’t have to do any of that.
I grabbed “Knock Knock” and could tell instantly something wasn’t right. He wasn’t laughing, and “Knock Knock” is NEVER not laughing. NEVER! As a matter of fact, he wasn’t doing anything. Those eyes were just staring emptily. One towards the neighbor’s backyard, and the other towards the street. I shook him, and then shook him again, but nothing changed. He didn’t gasp or blink or respond at all.
But as I shook him the second time I heard this weird sort of squishing sound, along with the hollow clunk of wood.
I kind of turned him around, and then let go fast as I realized what had happened, and realized I had been shaking a corpse.
Somehow when we fell off the banister. The wooden fixtures that held it all together went with us. When we hit the ground. I fell on top of “Knock Knock”, but “Knock Knock” fell on top of a few of those boards.
One of these boards was now stuck firmly into “Knock Knocks” head because if you build a banister, then you’re going to need . . . A LOT of nails.
FUCKING NAILS! NAILS NAILS NAILS NAILS NAILS!
“Knock Knock” Took my fate and made it his! Or I took my fate and made it “Knock Knocks” I don’t give a shit. Call it what you want, but when I turned at that last second, he caught all those nails to the back of his empty messed up little dome and knocked his lights out! They were for me! But he got it instead!
I couldn’t believe it . . . I was alive! I won! I’d stopped this horrible prophet forever, and even if we were all going to die. We were going to die with some damn peace and quiet and willful ignorance! SALVATION!!!
At least those were my initial thoughts. As I looked over “Knock Knocks” lifeless body, that scraggly trench coat. Those ridiculously oversized boots, those ripped jeans. My eyes met his hand, and my heart dropped when I saw what he was holding.
In “Knock Knocks” dead hand was the unmistakable shape of an empty revolver cartridge.
Dann Orrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
He was a good neighbor. He was a good neighbor.
He must’ve come outside when he heard the commotion just as my revolver dropped and went off. Hit him square between the eyes. He never saw it coming. I’m a coward. Never called the police. The police weren’t over there for long when they saw the crime scene though. I mean why would they? There’s “Knock Knock” with an empty revolver cartridge in his hand. There’s Danny boy dead as a door nail, and there’s a revolver in between them with one spent casing. Pretty easy fix for an inadequate small town police force. Pretty easy fix. Pretty easy fix. Prettty eash\y
You’d think with “Knock Knock” being dead, and the final prophecy coming to fruition things would go back to normal right? Right? Except they’re not!!!!!!!!
It’s me now! It’s me now! I fucking know it.
I keep getting these waves of just . . . I don’t even know. Waves of . . Insanity??? It’s like I just forget who I am. It’s like when you’re sick right? How for the most part you’re just a little woozy until the nausea takes over, and then you turn into this horrible writhing thing hunched over a toilet?
That’s me now. I feel myself slipping. I feel myself losing my grip on what’s real with every passssssing minute and I know there’s not much time.
There’s not much time, but you gotta no!
You gotta no!
Therssssssssssss somein in your town hoo nos things he shuldn;t