The Stranger at the Door
by Ryder Wells Grear © 2008
The woman in the house paced back and forth, not knowing what she was waiting for but waiting anyway. There should be a knock at the door soon, it will be that stranger again; what the hell was it that he wanted? Every day at this same time he would be at her door knocking, wanting to come in. Should she let him in, she wondered to herself. What would this man do if she did let him in? Was it even a man out there? She had never bothered to look out there and see the stranger's face through the peephole, she sort of feared that he would somehow look back through it and see her staring eye.
So what should she do? Should she call the police or was this stranger just mistaking her house for someone else's? She didn't know but for some reason she still waited for the knocking to begin, when would it start today? Would it be at the same time as usual or would it be a different time just to throw her off her game. What would her response be this time? What if when she opened the door, it were some deranged killer of some sort like they're always talking about on the news? What then? Or maybe it was as she had thought and maybe it was just some lost person in search of a friend's house. In either case what should she do? She couldn't just keep this going on forever could she? No, probably not. She had to do something this time.
She could just tell the person to leave. Wouldn't it be great if it were that simple; if she just told this stranger to leave and he just did it? Oh, that would be great wouldn't it? But what if he didn't? What if after hearing her voice he would knock even louder knowing that she was home. What then? What did this strange person want? Then suddenly it began: the knocking that she had feared. What was she going to do?
The knock came again; she slunk closer to the front door and held her hand to her throat in fear. The knocking then came a third time, then shortly later a fourth time, and then with a parting of her lips the woman said, “What do you want?” There was no answer from the stranger outside, just the continued sound of knocking. Thinking that the stranger had not heard her, since she hadn't quite heard herself, she repeated the question, “What do you want?”
Still no answer, but this time the knocking stopped. There were no footsteps as if the stranger was walking away, just the ceased sound of knocking. The woman wondered if this was a good sign or a bad sign; then shortly later the knocking began again, now louder, almost with anger in it. The woman again repeated her question but much louder, “What do you want? What the hell do you want?!” No answer, just more knocking, she had decided this was enough.
She fled from the door and called the police immediately, informing them of this stranger at her door, but as soon as she had gotten off the phone with the police the knocking stopped and did not continue for a full half hour. Then there was more knocking, but this time a much lighter knock, followed by a voice, “Maim, this is the police. Would you mind stepping outside?” Should she step outside, the woman wondered. That lunatic could still be out there. “Maim,” the voice came again. “Would you mind stepping outside, I would like to ask you some questions about this disturbance.”
Being daring she looked out the peephole and saw that it was in fact an officer, so she unlocked her door and stepped outside. She walked with the officer to his car, “Maim,” the officer began “I drove all around your neighborhood, but I didn't see anyone out here, I'm sorry for your fright but usually this type of thing is just some kids pulling a prank. I think you should be alright now though. If you hear the knocking again just ignore it, or maybe even act like you're not home and you should be good. Now do you have any other questions or concerns?” The woman, slightly disappointed, shook her head. “Alright then,” the officer finished as he got back into his police cruiser, “You have a nice day, Maim.”
After seeing the officer drive off the woman walked back into her house and went to her living room. Then as she sat down in one of her comfy chairs, she realized something. When she had been talking with the officer, she had left the door unlocked. It was this very realization that distracted her from the sound of footsteps creeping up behind her.