A Knock at the Door

Knock, knock, knock was the sound that fell onto the doors frame.

“May I come in?” said a quiet and humble voice

“No!” shouted the owner. “ I got rid of that stupid door knob to keep people like you outside. So don't think a couple of good words will get me to open up now.”

“May I please come in Jarred?”

“What? Who told you my name!” Jarred bashed the door in anger, and in fear at the voice that seemed to overtake his front door. After a few more knocks, Jarred left to his room, thinking maybe the stranger outside would stop his insistent requests to come in.

Jarred, now upstairs, decided to take a quick nap, and get his mind off of the current things. So, he hopped into bed, and tried falling asleep. As he lay on the soft mattress, one thing bugged him to no end. It was the feel of a dark pair of eyes staring at him. Their presence came from some where in the room, and even though the feeling was there, Jarred tried to not heed the continuous thought of danger that waited somewhere in the void space in his room. But even the insistent rest he longed for did only so little to his minds wondering.

Jarred, who was just starting to gain a sense of relief, found the troubles of his day leaving, yet something else was taking its place. A creature of some sorts that lived in his head. Maybe it was fear, or slothfulness that had begun to breach into the young mans mind. Despite the shift of thought, there were some things that stayed the same. The eyes that did not seem to exist, but at the same time did, still laid waste to the bedroom, and the knocking at the door.

The clandestine meanings starved for attention inside of his head as he waded on top of his mattress. So to debunk the gratuitous lashings to his nerves, Jarred leaped to his feet, and began to fervently search his room. Jarred's insular mind was now becoming more aware of a foreboding entity near him. It was as if a ghost from an old tale had fabricated itself into his room. Now, the more he coerced himself to debase his fear, the more he found it erupting from the seams of his room.

Fear gaped over Jarred like a towering wall. For now a sound made its way from an area behind himself. It was the callous sound of foot steps ever so slightly etching its way across the slick floor. At once Jarred turned a full 180 degrees to face his giant, but he found nothing there. So he left his room, to the bathroom hoping a quick splash of water would help him cope with his nerves.

As Jarred rushed across the upper floor to his bathroom directly across from his bedroom, he noticed that there was a constant knocking that flowed through the door, and the feeble voice saying “May I come in?”

“I don't believe it, the freaks still out there knocking”

Jarred continued onto the bathroom as quickly as he could. After opening the door, and turning on the lights, he found there was something off about the room. A distasteful odor of vomit seemed to lace the room. The smell was so revolting, Jarred almost had lost his sense of self to its aroma. Within moments The young man dashed from the bathroom, and down the stairs to escape the putrid deluge of his senses.

Once down the old archaic steps of his home, the youth Heard the pounding noise of footsteps cavorting around the kitchen, and living room areas. Their ebullient pace wreaked havoc on the young man's mettle.

Jarred inched his way through his hallway next to the stairs, all the way down where the kitchen, and living room lay. As he made his way through the halls, the paintings that hung on either side of him appeared a bit different then they had once before. The eyes of the faces that were prominently etched onto the canvasses seemed to follow his every move as he made his way what he thought may be a macabre of events.