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  • A Knock on the Door
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  • So, this thing has been haunting me since I was around five. We don't know how exactly it came to be, or how it even came to encounter us. We do know, however, that its intentions are evil and that it is extremely dangerous. However, we can not protect ourselves from it. The only things we can do about it are find out when it is here, what it does when it is here, and escape from it. But every thing had a cost.
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dbkwik:creepy-pasta/property/wikiPageUsesTemplate
dbkwik:creepypasta/property/wikiPageUsesTemplate
abstract
  • So, this thing has been haunting me since I was around five. We don't know how exactly it came to be, or how it even came to encounter us. We do know, however, that its intentions are evil and that it is extremely dangerous. However, we can not protect ourselves from it. The only things we can do about it are find out when it is here, what it does when it is here, and escape from it. But every thing had a cost. We learned everything from experience. It started just three days after my fifth birthday. The birthday was wonderful, my father had just returned from the army, and we celebrated all day. But, as all good things must come to an end, so did our happy reunion. It was a Thursday, and everything was quiet and peaceful. The day had gone about like any other, but everything changed when night fell. My mother was at work when it happened. My father was watching television in the living room, and my brother and I were in our room, playing video games. About thirty minutes later, my father said he was going out for a walk. We wondered why he would go out at this time of day, but we shrugged it off as that he liked to take late strolls. So, we watched as he left. He closed and locked the door. We returned to our rooms, and continued to play video games. After some time talking and playing, strange things began to happen. I remember it was when my brother told me a joke, I can't remember exactly what about, I think it was an about a cat, when the first of the odd things happened. This strange happening, what my family now considers the "First Sign", was a strange whispering sound. When I heard it, I didn't know what it was, so I thought it was a prank my brother was pulling to creep me out a bit. So, I decided to play along with it. I, being the ignorant 5 year old I was, didn't notice the discomforted face on my brother. The "Second Sign" was a bit more odd than the last. A foul smell reached my nose. It smelled of something dead, now that I think about it. Back then, I couldn't understand what exactly it smelled like, all I knew was that it smelled really bad. But, I decided to keep playing along with it. Until the last sign. The "Last Sign" didn't go so well with me. Even through the whispering and the smell, I could still talk to my now nervous looking brother. However, when the last one came, I couldn't deal with it. The whispering had combined with a desperate whimpering sound. The sound was a begging sound, like someone was crying out for help. It was getting louder and louder. And, as if to accompany my distress, there was a knock at the door. It wasn't even the front door. It was at our door. That wasn't even possible. A chill ran up my spine. I called my mother to ask if she had arrived. When my mother said no, I called my father. He didn't pick up. I begged my brother to stop this prank of his. The wimpering was even louder, and now there was a laughing. A cruel laughter that held pure malice, now that I remember. When my brother heard what I said, he made a face that I would never forget. His face was one struck with sheer terror. He told me he thought I had done this. When I told him it wasn't me, and our parents weren't home, the knocking at our door got louder. My brother smashed the window on the opposite side of the room, which led outside. His hand was bleeding, and he told me to run with him as fast as I could. At that point, I was terrified. I listened and ran. We eventually arrived at his friend's house, where we stayed for the night. My brother had told my mother not to go home, and to meet us here. We still received no response from our father. The next day, we began to move away. The day was sad, because we had heard that our father was brutally killed in an unnatural fashion. Ever since then, that thing has been following us. But we've learned the signs, and we've been escaping it and moving away ever since. It still fills us with fear whenever we hear a knock at our door.