Knock On The Window

There’s a knock on the windowpane.

I don’t know what it is.

It won’t stop.




I’m too afraid to look.

The floorboards out in the hall creak.

It sounds as though someone’s walking, no stalking, across them.

The beams holding the roof up moan.

It almost sounds like a ghost,

But that’s ridiculous.

Ghosts aren’t real,

Nor are monsters.

All fake,

Made up to scare people.

I really should stop reading those horror stories right before I go to bed.

The pounding on the window grew louder.

The footsteps closer.

The moaning changing to a shrill shriek.

The bedroom door creaked.

My eyes snapped open.

The door had opened a crack,

The darkness of the hallway merging with that of my room.

I got out of bed, went over and closed it.

I turned back around and

The breath got caught in my airway.

Through the window,

Rain ran down the glass,

Blurring the outline of the figure,

Who stood just past the fragile border.

I couldn’t see its face,

But from the way it watched me,

I knew it was nothing friendly.

It wasn’t a person,

Or an animal.

It slowly reached out

And touched the glass.

The water recoiled and redirected its course away from its gray hand.

The figure wanted me.

The shrieking from above grew to heart stopping wails,

And I noticed there were no noises coming from the hallway.

Something moved in the dark,

So close it could’ve touched my arm.

I stumbled back and fumbled with the light switch.

It didn’t turn on.

The creature outside tapped the window,

Making the eerie knock I had heard earlier.

I watched in horror

As the window unlatched

And slid open.

The creature’s hands grasped the windowsill.

The shrieking from above abruptly stopped.

I flung open my bedroom door and

ran blindly out,

Right into the tip of something sharp.

It pierced my throat.

Warm blood trickled down my neck.

I couldn’t breathe.

I tripped over my own feet

And went sprawling onto the hall floor.

A slimy, calloused hand grasped my shoulder

And rolled me over onto my back.

The creature stared down at me,

Ready to have its feast.


© Amelia Jacobson 2016


3 thoughts on “Knock On The Window

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